Joyce Takes Charge
by Queen Boadicea
Summary: What if Joyce found out about her daughter's nocturnal habits a little earlier?
1. The Truth is Stranger Than Fiction

Title: Joyce Takes Charge

Author: Queen Boadicea

Email: queenboadiceaoftheiceni@yahoo.com

Spoiler Warning: BtVS season two, episode "School Hard"

Disclaimer: This belongs to Joss Whedon and the usual gang of idi…uh, geniuses.

Feedback: Do your worst—it can't compare to my worst ;)

[thoughts]

Joyce was annoyed. All right, she was terrified _and_ annoyed. She'd thought this would be a typical Parent/Teacher night. Well, where Buffy was concerned things would hardly be typical. But her daughter had been trying to fit in and make things work, hadn't she?

But Buffy had been giving her cause for worry lately. Joyce tried to set rules and boundaries without pushing too hard; she really did. Still, she was fairly certain Buffy was sneaking out at nights. She swore she could hear faint movements in her daughter's room in the early hours of morning that sounded like the window being opened and shut. There were the odd hours she kept with her friends at school. 

There was also the matter of that strange, handsome English librarian. She was grateful for his concern for Buffy. But Joyce couldn't recall any of _her_ teachers being so attentive as to show up at the hospital when the students' parents got sick or injured. If she didn't know her daughter thought sex involving older people was gross, she'd have suspected the man of harboring improper intentions towards Buffy.

Buffy had been a little jittery all week concerning Parent/Teacher night and Joyce suspected the news from her teachers might not be entirely favorable. But she'd calmed down and even got a little enthusiastic as Thursday night approached. Joyce thought things might finally be turning out all right.

True, some of her teachers had trouble recalling who she was. Others seemed to think she was some kind of delinquent. When Joyce pressed them for details, however, there were only vague mumblings about Buffy always seeming to be around when trouble reared its ugly head.

The worst criticism came from that nasty, spiteful principal, Mr. Snyder. Joyce had met his kind before: people who interpreted the least bit of individuality in teenagers as rebellion, wildness and criminal tendencies. She suspected people like him didn't really like kids which made his choice of job rather foolish, in her opinion. What a jerk. Joyce resolved to ignore his opinion. Other than his ill-directed meanness and the indifference of the teachers, they all had to concede that Buffy was doing well in school. So it looked as if things might finally be turning around after the disaster at Hemery.

Then it all fell apart. Those hooligans attacked the school and pandemonium broke out. Joyce couldn't figure out what they wanted except they seemed bent on killing everyone. What happened to the good old days when kids seized the schools to make political statements?

Buffy seemed to know what was going on, however, and she'd ordered her mother to stay put—a command that was hard to follow when she heard screaming inside and outside the building. Joyce was torn. The idiot principal wanted to leave but quickly changed his mind when somebody was yanked, screaming, through an open window.

But Buffy was out there in heavens knew what kind of trouble and Joyce simply couldn't stay put. Having heard nothing but silence for awhile, she cautiously edged open the door. Seeing a discarded axe lying in the hallway, she picked it up and marched determinedly to look for her daughter.

Buffy traded swift vicious jabs with the peroxide blonde vamp. He slammed her into the wall and swung at her but she ducked at the last second so his fist punched through the plaster instead of her skull. Buffy took the opportunity to deal him a solid blow to the back.

The vampire was mildly impressed. "Now that hurt." Then he wrenched his arm out of the wall—along with a hefty wooden beam he'd gripped behind the plaster. He swatted Buffy in the head with it so that she landed, stunned, on the school linoleum. "But not so much as this will." He grinned and raised the plank to finish her off.

Joyce couldn't see the man's face since his back was to her. But she heard the sneering tone in his voice, witnessed the threatening posture as he stood over her prone daughter and she saw red.

Charging forward, she swung the blade of the axe with all her strength. Bracing herself for the solid thud when the head bounced from his shoulders, she sliced the axe cleanly through his neck—only to see the entire body disintegrate into dust. Caught off balance from the unexpected lack of resistance, Joyce staggered and nearly fell. 

Buffy stared at her in shock as she scrambled to her feet. "Mom? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay put!"

"Well, excuse me for worrying about my daughter!" Joyce retorted. Then she did a double take. "Buffy, that man—"

"What man? Oh, the one that was here a moment ago. H-he ran away. You must have scared him real good when you whacked him with that axe. Great going, Mom."

"Don't take that tone with me, missy. I saw what just happened here!" She paused. "Exactly what just happened here?"

"I'd love to explain; I really would. But there are more people in danger and I have to go."

"You don't have to do anything, Buffy. We should just wait for the proper authorities."

"The proper authorities aren't coming! The phone lines have been cut."

"Oh. Right. Then—what are you going to do?"

"My job," Buffy muttered under her breath. She marched off only to realize Joyce was still with her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Following you, of course. You think I'm going to let my only child go into danger alone?"

"Mom, I can handle things from here."

"Yes, you were doing so well a moment ago," the older woman replied, irony dripping from her voice.

"That was—I was regrouping!"

"From the floor?"

Buffy fumed for a moment. She briefly considered knocking her out and stowing her in a closet somewhere. But even if that didn't leave the woman helpless for whatever vampire came along, her mother would be incredibly pissed when she woke up. The blonde girl sighed and came to a decision.

"Okay, you can come. But stay behind me and don't help me unless you think you can get a clean shot."

"Fine. You're the boss," Joyce replied. She marched behind her daughter as Buffy carefully rounded a corner. "So, Buffy. What was that _thing_ I just killed…?"

After the rest of the vampires had been dusted or run off, Angel had excused himself and silently drifted into the night. Snyder was left to make his previously rehearsed speech about gangs on PCP attacking the school to the police. Buffy did a head count and was relieved to find all her friends had made it through the night alive and intact. They all sat around giving their various statements to the cops and Joyce noted with bemusement that everyone backed up Snyder's story.

However, she noted the furtive glances Buffy's friends and the librarian traded with each other. When the last of the squad cars had driven away and the ambulances had carted off the two dead bodies, she folded her arms and quirked her eyebrows as she probed her daughter for the true story.

"Buffy, do you want to explain to me what's really going on here?"

"Mrs. Summers, you heard our statements to the police…" Giles began.

"Save it, Mr. Giles. I'm a little old to be fed fairy tales. I know what those creatures were."

Giles shot Buffy an inquiring look. She shrugged her shoulders, smiling feebly. "She kinda dusted a vamp earlier tonight, Giles."

"You mom got a bloodsucker? You rule, Mrs. S!" Xander crowed.

"That's so cool, Mrs. Summers!" Willow added, a smile lighting up her features.

Manfully getting a grasp on his poise, Giles blinked and looked over the impatient woman standing before him. "That's—I trust you were uninjured in the encounter, Mrs. Summers?"

She waved her hand, dismissing his concern. "I'm perfectly all right, thank you for asking. I take it by your reactions that you're all in on this conspiracy?"

Giles protested. "I-I wouldn't call it a conspiracy as such."

"We're more of an elite, select group—like the Shriners." That came from Willow. She met the incredulous looks from the others. "Well, we are."

"Which brings me to the real question. Why are you mixed up in this, Buffy?"

There was no getting around this. Her mother would have to be told. Buffy patted the school stairs beside her. "Mom, you might want to sit down for this." When her mother complied, she took a deep breath.

"Mom. I'm a vampire Slayer…"

TBC


	2. My Daughter, the Slayer

The next few moments were—hard. That was an understatement. Joyce had been baffled and then horrified and outraged. Buffy had suggested they go home so they could discuss it quietly and she had at last conceded. Somehow she knew this was going to be a long story, one requiring a lot of explanations from her daughter and enormous patience on her part.

The others had asked to accompany them home. Buffy had protested but Giles had reasoned her mother would need their input in order to understand the complete story. She drove Buffy home in her car while the others piled into Mr. Giles's vehicle. 

Buffy kept shooting her nervous glances from across the passenger seat. She couldn't remember ever seeing her mother so grim and silent. Even the divorce hadn't merited such non-communication. Her mom had weathered that with a forcefully cheery disposition although that hadn't prevented Buffy from hearing the muffled sobs from her mother's room late at night when she thought she couldn't hear. She was secretly glad the others would be there to back her up but dreaded hearing what her mother would say.

Mrs. Summers seated everyone in the living room and asked if anybody wanted something to eat. That nice boy Alexander had piped up saying he wanted hot chocolate and the others quickly chimed in. Giles had asked wistfully if she had tea on hand and been delightfully surprised when she replied in the affirmative.

Seeing to everybody's comfort helped to settle Joyce somewhat. It didn't hurt that she was in her own home. One was always more at ease in familiar surroundings, after all. She had the feeling she would need all the moral support she could muster.

Mr. Giles made a show of cleaning his glasses after polishing off his tea and cleared his throat. "W-well, Mrs. Summers, your daughter is, as she told you, a Vampire Slayer. What that means precisely—"

"—Is that she slays vampires. Got that one, Mr. Giles," she responded.

"I'm afraid there's a great deal more to it than that, Mrs. Summers," he remarked with some asperity. "There are other non-human life forms out there, many far more deadly than vampires. The history of the Slayer is such that she must be prepared to fight them all whenever and wherever they appear."

"History? This thing has a history?" Joyce looked around at each person.

"Here we go," Xander muttered. Willow nudged him with her elbow.

Giles straightened slightly and recited what he had been told when he was first informed of his sacred duty. "There is one girl born in all the world to fight the demons, to kill the vampires. She and she alone will stand against the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer."

Joyce stared at Mr. Giles. Then she snorted and finally burst out laughing. "Oh goodness. That's quite a speech, Mr. Giles. Do they make you rehearse that at vampire slaying school or something?"

"Probably," Xander said. Willow glared and nudged him again. "Ow! What's with the poking?"

Giles was quite miffed she didn't take this seriously. "I assure you, madam, there's more to being a Slayer than speeches no matter how pompous they may sound. The matter is a grave one and I'd appreciate it if you understood that right from the start."

Mrs. Summers choked back her laughter. "I'm sorry, Mr. Giles. It's just—it's been a long night and nothing has turned out like I expected. Now you tell me my daughter is part of a long line of fighters with a sacred birthright as if she were royalty. You have to admit it's a little on the ridiculous side."

"It _is_ quite a lot to swallow. This is why Slayers are usually taken away from their parents and isolated. It spares difficulties and misunderstandings," Giles stated.

At these words, Joyce's lips thinned. "Somebody's going to take my daughter away?"

"No, madam. Assuredly not," Giles said hastily. "That is what is commonly done. However, I realized from the beginning that Buffy is no ordinary girl and the usual method of dealing with Slayers wouldn't be of use with her. Her first Watcher came to her late—"

"Her first what?" Joyce interrupted.

"Mrs. Summers, there exists an ancient order called the Watchers Council. It is their job to educate themselves, seek out and train each Slayer that exists in the world. Potential girls are observed and, whenever possible, taken from their homes to be trained in their duties should they be chosen. Due to an oversight, Buffy was missed until she was well advanced in years. Then her Watcher Mr. Merrick came to her. Unfortunately, he was killed while she was up against Lothos…a particularly old and vicious vampire," he explained in response to Joyce's questioning stare.

"When was this?" she asked Buffy.

"This was in Los Angeles, just after the divorce. That was when I, uh, burned down the school," she finished in a barely audible mutter.

"Oh, so THAT'S what that was about!" Joyce exclaimed. "I thought it was faulty wiring!" She gave her daughter a narrow stare. "And that's what you've been doing since you got here in Sunnydale?"

Buffy heaved a sigh, partly of resignation and relief her mother finally knew the truth. "That's right, Mom. Giles tagged me as his Slayer the first day I came to Sunnydale High."

"How did you know Buffy was a…Slayer?" Joyce stumbled over the term. Buffy was just Buffy to her. She couldn't think of her daughter as a mystical fighter no matter what Mr. Giles said.

"Yeah, I'd be interested in knowing that myself, G-man," Xander asked. "I found out 'cause I was looking for a book in the library stacks and overheard you talking to Buffy about it. But I'd like to know how you picked Buffy out of the crowd as a wannabe Xena."

"Well, the Council has ways of learning who the next Slayer is. Mr. Merrick was given Buffy as his charge and was making his regular reports to us on her progress. When these reports stopped, agents were dispatched who learned of his death after his body was found. Buffy's subsequent move to Sunnydale was carefully noted and I was sent here to be head librarian and her next Watcher and await her arrival."

"You were sent here? So your job is to look out for my daughter?" Joyce asked.

"The _job_, as you put it, requires a little more than that. But, yes, a Watcher must train and prepare the Slayer for the dangers she will invariably encounter in the field. Tonight was one such case."

The older woman rested her cup on the living room table. "What was so special about tonight?"

"Well, nothing, really. We expected these vamps to attack us on the Feast of St. Vigius. That was gonna be this Saturday. But for some reason they came two days early. Do you think they set their alarm clocks wrong or something?" Willow asked Giles.

"The Feast of Saint Who?" Joyce couldn't recall any saint of that name and searched through her mental archives as to whether she'd ever seen him in a painting.

"Yeah, never heard of him either." Buffy shrugged. "So either the vamps got antsy and couldn't wait or somebody screwed up the calendar." She smiled sweetly at her Watcher who got decidedly huffy.

"I assure you, Buffy, I studied the signs and texts very carefully. And you yourself told me that vampire you met in the alley swore you were going to die on Saturday. Did that sound like an idle boast to you when he said it?"

"No, he sounded pretty cocksure of himself all right. But that was before he met my mom," Buffy grinned.

Giles blinked. Then he put two and two together. "Good Lord. Are you telling me that _Spike_ was the vampire your mother killed?"

Buffy mentally slapped herself. "Oh yeah. Did I forget to mention that?" 

Willow and Xander looked at Mrs. Summers with an awe she didn't really understand. Okay, she got that vampires were dangerous. If the real ones were anything like the creatures she'd seen in movies, then naturally they were formidable creatures. But what was so different about the one she'd axed? "Will somebody clue me in? Who or what was Spike?"

"Spike, Mrs. Summers, was a vampire of particular infamy among the Watchers Council. He had existed for over 120 years. He was not one of the oldest vampires by any means but he was one of the more vicious. In his time he encountered and killed two Slayers."

A profound silence fell over the room. Joyce was stunned. The monster she had killed this evening had murdered two girls like Buffy? He had been _that_ deadly—and she'd just charged up and attacked him as if he'd been an ordinary thug. "Oh. Oh dear. I-I think I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down, Mom."

"Good. That was a short trip." She fluttered her hands and then clenched them tightly together. "So when he went after Buffy…"

"He was trying to make her the number three notch on his belt," Xander finished.

Her expression hardened and in a second the fear fell away. "Then I'm glad I killed him." She turned towards her daughter. "Buffy, are those the kind of things you have to go after?"

"Every night, Mom. Vampires are being created every single day and they rise every night. Not just in Sunnydale but all over the world. We just have the bad luck of being on the Hellmouth so I have to take care of them here."

"You do this every night? How do you manage to take care of schoolwork?" Joyce paused. "And we're living on a what?!"

Giles decided to field this one. "A Hellmouth. When the Spanish originally settled here, they called this place _Boca del Inferno._ They probably changed the name because they felt it kept away potential settlers."

"I don't know. Death Valley isn't what you'd called a friendly little phrase but it draws tourists every year," Xander said.

"Yeah, but nobody wants to _live_ there, Xander," Willow pointed out.

Joyce sagged back in her chair and rubbed her temples tiredly. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and put this nightmarish evening behind her. But first she had to appeal to her daughter. "Buffy, I don't know how you've been doing this since you came here. But you're still my child. I know you like the things that other teenaged girls your age like. You were hoping tonight would go smoothly just as I did and those creatures must have messed things up terribly. If this vampire was coming after you because you're this mystical fighter, then two people are dead tonight because of it. You can't possibly _like_ being a Slayer. Couldn't you just…give it up?"

Buffy hesitated. She had to admit her mother had a point. Two people were dead tonight and, in a way, it was her fault. But the role of Slayer had nothing to do with liking. It wasn't a job she could just quit because the hours stank and the pay was non-existent. Buffy had to make her mother see how important this was.

"Mom, I didn't want to be a Slayer. I thought Merrick was a dirty old creep when I met him and I hated the idea of a duty that would make me lose my friends. Sure, after you divorced Dad and I burned down the school and got transferred here, I hoped things would be different. But the first week I was here Willow got threatened by a vampire and Xander's friend was turned into one. So I realized one way or the other, I was going to lose people I cared about and that I'd lose more of them if I didn't do something. All the things that go bump in the night aren't going to disappear just because I don't like my job. You said it yourself. Spike came after me because I'm a Slayer and giving up on slaying won't make me less of one or less of a prize for things like him. If I stop fighting, stop training, I'll become flabby and weak and an even easier target. Like it or not, Mom, I'm a Slayer for life."

Giles added his own feelings on the matter. "Mrs. Summers, slaying isn't a job any more than being a Watcher is. Your daughter has a sacred birthright…"

"Not helping, Giles," Buffy mumbled when she saw the mutinous gleam in her mother's eye.

"But couldn't you get another girl to take up this, this, position?" Sacred calling be damned. If there was any way her daughter was getting out of this, Joyce was going to find it.

There was another uncomfortable silence and Mr. Giles's eyes shifted from hers. "Un-unfortunately, Mrs. Summers, another Slayer cannot take Buffy's place. There is only one born in every generation."

"But you mentioned other girls being trained," Joyce probed.

"Those are _potential_ Slayers. When an actual Slayer is chosen, it is done by an unknown process we Watchers have never been able to fathom. The superior strength, swift healing and supernatural quickness of a true Slayer is given to one girl and one girl only at a time. Otherwise, we could raise an army of such females. I'm afraid that Buffy is it."

Joyce was fed up with this man's autocratic behavior. It was obvious he didn't have children otherwise he wouldn't talk so callously about hers being forced into this deadly trade. "Then forget it. Find another girl. Choose another girl. Find the next one on your magical list or whatever and choose _her._"

Giles sighed and paused, mentally rallying himself. This was why Slayers were removed from their families. Most parents would refuse to part willingly with their child especially when it meant the poor girl might die an early death. Explaining to any parent the need for surrendering a seemingly helpless girl for a life of hardship and violent demise would be beyond anybody no matter how glib a speaker. "Another girl cannot be chosen. Not until Buffy…" He stopped and a weary look appeared in his eyes.

"Until Buffy what? What does Buffy have to do?" Joyce's gaze darted from one person to the other and noted uneasily how they all avoided looking at her.

Buffy alone held her mother's eye. This was going to be the hard part, the one her mother wouldn't stand for. "The next Slayer gets picked when the current one dies. That's the way it is, Mom." She didn't mention the fact that she had died once already. Her mother had been given enough information for one night. Hearing that would make her absolutely freak.

"Y-you have to die for another to be chosen?" Buffy nodded and Joyce felt all hope die within her. "Oh my god. So when you were chosen, it's because the girl before you was killed."

Giles spoke as gently as he could to the distraught woman. "That is correct, Mrs. Summers." Giles sympathized with her plight. He couldn't imagine how dreadful it must be to know your only child was picked for such a terrible ordeal, one that would assuredly result in her early death. Mrs. Summers had handled things well up until now. But this had to be terrible news.

Joyce looked at all of them. They all looked unhappy…except for Buffy. She was so calm by comparison. Any worry in her hazel eyes seemed to be all for her. How could Buffy be so accepting, knowing that she was going to die young? Then Joyce came to a decision. Her daughter wasn't going to die if she could help it. She'd taken down that monster that would have killed her child and she'd fight any other beast that dared assault Buffy. No one messed with Joyce Summers; her ex-husband could have told them that.

She had been silent for a long time and Buffy was starting to get worried. "Mom? I know this is a lot to take in. A-are you okay? I mean, with all this?"

She sighed and met her daughter's concerned gaze. "No, Buffy, I'm not okay with this. No mother in her right mind would be okay with this. But you seem to have all this under control and you have Mr. Giles and your friends backing you up." She glanced around at the others. "What do _your_ parents have to say about this?"

"Um, well, my folks…kinda not the type I share my deep, dark secrets with, Mrs. Summers," Xander said.

"And my mom and dad are usually too wrapped up in their latest scholarly thesis to pay much attention to what I do. Although my mother might make some speech about the importance of mythological archetype in the modern world if I mentioned vampires, I'm not sure if she would grasp the part about Slayers. She still calls Buffy Bunny," Willow added.

"Mom, I know this all sounds crazy and it's a lot to throw at you. I'd like you to be onboard with this. But I have to tell you I'm going to keep slaying whether you approve or not. I have to," Buffy said, trying to muster every bit of self-confidence in her tone.

"I realize that, dear." Joyce regarded her daughter steadily for a moment and then smiled to herself.

"What? What is it, Mom?"

"I was just thinking this is how Joan of Arc's mother must have felt when her daughter started hearing voices telling her to go have a chat with the king of France," Joyce replied ruefully.

"Except Buffy doesn't hear voices. Unless that's a Slayer gift I haven't heard about. Buffy?" Xander asked with raised eyebrows.

"No, I don't hear voices, Xander. But I do get wacky, Surround Sound prophety dreams. Do those count as voices, Giles?"

"Of course, Buffy. All Slayers receive such dreams," Giles answered.

Her mother flung her a worried glance. "Dreams? You get prophetic dreams? Is that why you used to wake up screaming?"

"Yes, sometimes. Except for that one time I dreamt I was being chased by a giant version of John Tesh and he was forcing me to listen to bagpipe music. I don't know _what_ that was about," Buffy quipped.

Her mother smiled wanly at her joke. "So, except for that Spike creep, do you have to worry about any other special kind of demons?"

"Not for the time being, Mom." Buffy scowled at Giles when it seemed he was about to speak and the Englishman subsided. "Spike was the only really big nasty in the picture."

Her mother visibly relaxed. "Good. Then I think we've covered everything." As everybody stood to leave, she walked over to her daughter. "Just one more thing, Buffy. I know you've been hiding this from me. But I don't want you to hide this any longer. Whatever happens regarding this Slayer…business, I want to know from now on. I may be only an ordinary, humble human being but I'm your mother. If you can bring your friends into this, you can certainly make room for me."

"All right, Mom. But when things get really hairy don't say you weren't warned." Buffy waved the rest of her friends out of the house and shut the door behind them.

Willow, Xander and Giles walked down the walkway, glancing back every now and then at the lit windows of the house on Revello Street. Xander remarked, "I gotta say, she's one okay Mom." 

"Yeah. She was so cool about everything. I mean, once the yelling, shaking and wigging was over," Willow ventured.

"She is a truly remarkable woman. I can't think of too many females who would accept this quite as well as she," Giles added. "I can see where Buffy gets her great spirit."

"Don't you think we should have told her about Angel, though? Sooner or later she's gonna find out her daughter's dating one of the undead. That's not gonna sit well with her. I vote I tell her the next time we get together. Who's with me?" He raised his hand.

Willow frowned. Xander was her best friend but sometimes he could be a real jerk. "That's not our secret to tell, Xander. Leave that to Buffy."

"Whatever." He turned towards Giles. "So you think we put the kibosh on the whole Feast of St. Vegetables or can we expect a rematch come Saturday night?"

"With their leader gone, I doubt whether the vampires will make another major incursion against the Slayer anytime soon. I'll warn Buffy to be on her guard, however."

The Anointed One glared at his returning minions. A lot of them were the worse for wear, all babbling about having gotten their asses kicked by the Slayer. Some had left merely because the police had finally arrived on the scene. The only good news was that the bragging idiot with the bad hair seemed to have been dusted. Guess some good had come out of the whole evening after all.

"Boss? What do we do about her?" The minion jerked his thumb over his shoulder and the boy-turned-vampire squinted in the indicated direction.

"They've done for him. My poor boy speaks to the stars. He won't dance and pull the daffodils with his princess any more. No more tea parties for him. All the dollies will be so sad." The skinny, crazed brunette—what was her name? Drusilla?—was rocking back and forth clutching one of her stupid dolls. She'd started that some time ago even before the minions had arrived with the bad news. Somehow she'd known her boyfriend wasn't coming back. If the Anointed One had cared, he might have given a thought as to how that could be. But as it was the girl's whining just got on his nerves.

Honestly, he'd never understood the point of girls, before or after he'd been turned. The only one he'd ever met who was worth bothering about was that Slayer. He'd thought Darla was weak for obsessing about her Angelus and the Master stupid for flying into a tantrum when Darla had been destroyed. That Spike jerk had been equally moony over this dumb girl; no wonder he'd gotten dusted his first time out. 

Well, he wasn't going to make the same mistake. "Get rid of her," he intoned in his unnaturally deepened voice.

The minion nodded and walked over to the weakened brunette. Apparently insensible or uncaring of the danger, she continued to rock even as he placed his hands around her throat. One sharp twist and tug and her keening was abruptly cut short. The vampire swept the dust from his hands and turned towards the little boy perched on his throne.

"So, boss. Whaddaya want to do tomorrow night?"

TBC


	3. Liar, Liar

Buffy walked home, her mind in a giddy whirl. Billy Fordham, her old friend from Hemery, was here in Sunnydale—and he knew her secret! This was big. It was also dangerous. 

[But why should it be more dangerous for him than for, say, Xander and Willow? They know the truth and they manage to deal with it just fine. Knowing about all the creepy crawlies out there means Billy'll be careful when he walks the streets unlike everybody else here who live with permanent blindfolds on.]

[_But it's not safe to expose him to this kind of thing. Hello? Remember Owen?_]

[Oh yeah, Owen. He-Who-Walks-With-Danger. That guy admired Emily Dickinson and you remember what you read about her? Stayed in one room her whole life and went completely looney tunes. That should have been a tip-off right there that Owen didn't have his head on straight.] There was a mental snort following that inner dialogue. Owen hadn't really known what he was getting himself into. Apparently, Billy did.

So there'd be no hiding the way there was with the other students in Sunnydale High. There'd be no awkward pauses or stuttering while she and the others tried to talk about vampires or demons in front of him without giving away vital, scary information. Best of all, she could talk about the things from her old life, the life she had before her whole existence collapsed into a constant round of demon fighting and saving the world.

Billy knew _her_, knew plain old Buffy Summers. With him she could be Normal Girl instead of the school weirdo who hung out with Xander, Willow and the school librarian. Sure, he knew she was the Slayer but he had said it as if it were the most natural yet meaningless thing in the world. It was as if he'd learned she was working at the Dairy Queen when she'd told everybody else she was employed at Tiffany's and he was okay with it. He knew it was a big deal for her but he didn't stress the point. With Billy, she was an ordinary girl, Slayer powers or not. 

[Unlike Angel.] Yeah, meeting Angel at the Bronze while Billy was with her had been really tense, too. That was confusion with a healthy side order of awkwardness thrown in. Angel and Billy hadn't liked each other; she could tell. That was the last thing she needed—a vampire getting jealous over an old schoolgirl crush.

[But what right does Angel have to get huffy about things? Okay, we kiss and we talk except he doesn't talk much, not about himself. And it's not like we're dating. I want us to date but we can't 'cause of the whole vampire thing. But he drinks human drinks so he could eat human food if he wants or at least go through the motions. So why doesn't he make the effort for it, for _me_? And what do I really know about Angel anyway other than that he's hot, he's old and he's a vampire? I know way more about Billy than I do about Angel.] 

Why was she even thinking like this? She and Billy had never been anything to each other, really. She'd had a yen for him and he'd completely ignored her. Yet now he was here and he did seem interested in getting to know her and he was totally on board with the slaying thing. He was acceptable in a way that Angel was not. 

[And that means, what? Billy is human and available so Angel gets tossed to the side? Wow. Fickle much?]

[_Am not! Billy is just…a possibility. In a way that Angel isn't. I can talk about Billy to my friends and to my mother._] She heaved a sigh. That's right; she still hadn't told her mother about Angel yet. She simply didn't know any way she could manage that. Just how did you tell your mother "Hi, mom! My boyfriend's a vampire?" She wasn't figuring out this one anytime soon.

Buffy shelved the Angel issue for the moment as she opened the door to her house. "Mom! I'm home! You'll never guess who I met at school today!"

Her mother came out, wiping her hands. "Buffy. I'm glad you're home. I fixed your favorite—spaghetti and meatballs."

Her voice was light but underneath it all Buffy heard the unspoken words and anxiety that had lain there ever since her mother learned the truth. She was saying in her momish way, "Buffy, I'm glad you're alright and didn't get killed and did I mention how much I _hate_ your being a Slayer?" Yep, that never went away no matter how much her mother tried to deal. All at once, Buffy didn't want to reveal Billy's reappearance. He was like a gift just for her. Couldn't she keep him to herself just a little longer?

[Well, she wanted me not to hide things from her.] 

[_She meant about the slaying. Billy's not a slaying secret._]

[So why shouldn't you talk about him? In fact, she'll probably be just as thrilled as you are. Here's something normal in Buffy's life, something that is non-slayage related. She'll flip.] She smiled at her mother. "That's great, Mom." She dropped her bag on the floor, paying no attention to her mother's cluck of disapproval, and went to wash her hands in the sink. "I saw Billy Fordham today."

Joyce entered the kitchen. "Billy Fordham? Who's that? He sounds familiar."

"Well, he was only my fifth-grade crush from Hemery. We never went out so you never met him."

"Oh, _that_ Billy Fordham!" Joyce's face creased in amusement. "I remember him now. I heard you talking endlessly about him on the phone to your friends about how cute and hot he was."

"Mom! You were listening in on my phone conversations?" 

"No! But you sometimes left your door open and I kept hearing 'Billy Fordham' this and 'Billy Fordham' that with every other sentence. It's not hard to put two and two together."

Buffy blushed and wiped her hands on the dishtowel. Then she turned to her mother. "Well, it turns out he was transferred here to Sunnydale High. Isn't that great?"

"That's just wonderful. Well, how did he look?"

"He looked great, Mom. Better than I remembered," Buffy mused to herself. 

Joyce noted the dreamy look on her daughter's face. "So…any chance Billy is returning that old crush?"

Buffy smirked at the suggestive tone in her mother's voice. "Maybe." She began setting out the plates and forks for the evening meal. "There was another thing, too. Tonight, when we were walking home, I kinda ran into a vampire."

Joyce paused in the act of doling out a ladle of pasta. "You did? Did Billy see anything?"

"No. I staked it and then I told him it was a cat. But he didn't buy it. Turns out he already knew about—you know. The slaying thing."

Her mother blinked. "He knows…about the slaying? H-how?"

Buffy shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe I wasn't as careful back at Hemery as I thought. I didn't think any of the crowd I used to run with noticed folks were disappearing. But I guess good old Billy was taking notes while everybody else was totally clueless."

"Including me." Joyce shook her head. "I don't believe it. Even one of your old high school pals knew before I did. Talk about being out of the loop."

"He was way cool about it, too. He was like, 'Hey, Buffy. Good to see you again. By the way, I know you're a Slayer. What're you doing after school tomorrow?' It was great. Kinda weird. But really great." 

"Well, that's good—I suppose." Joyce tried to digest this piece of news. "What do the others have to say about this latest development in your life?"

"You mean Giles, Xander and Willow? Willow and Xander only met Billy this evening at the Bronze and he only 'fessed up to me about the knowingness after we left. So I haven't had a chance to spill the beans to them yet. Even when they do find out he's on to the Slayer thing, I don't know how they'll take it. Billy may be an old friend to me but he's new to them."

"I would think vampire-staking would automatically qualify him to become part of the group."

Buffy scrunched up her nose in mock admonition. "Ah, but there's a whole ceremony he has to undergo first. It involves goofy hats, chanting, secret handshakes and code names. Xander would probably want a name like Nighthawk or Raven or Silver Fox or something macho like that."

"Guess Flounder and Pinto are out then." Joyce smiled, getting into the spirit of the conversation.

"Huh?" Sometimes her mom was so strange.

"Never mind. Before your time, I suppose. I'm glad you don't have to hide who you are from Billy."

"Me too, Mom." She sat down to the table and picked up the salad bowl. "Shall I bring him over tomorrow, then?"

"Be my guest. I'd just love to hear what he and his parents have been doing since we left Los Angeles."

Buffy lay sprawled on the bed sheet. She was scribbling intermittently in her notebook with one hand. The other was clutching the phone while she chatted with Willow. "Just like that. Said he found out right before I got booted from Hemery."

There was a burst of animated gabble from the other end. "Yeah, I guess it is. I don't have to constantly worry that he's gonna find out my dark secret. It just makes everything easier." Another pause. "I'm gonna see him at school tomorrow. I think that's a gimme. And Mom wants to meet him, too. I think she's just thrilled for any bit of normalcy—not to mention news from L.A."

There was more talk and she frowned. "Angel? What about him? This thing with Billy—not that there's a thing 'cause he was just a crush not a serious boyfriend—it just started. And I'm not sure what I have with Angel. I mean, if Angel would just give me a definite sign that I'm not just an on-again, off-again thing with him, maybe I could tell Billy 'Sorry, I'm taken.' "

This time the babble on the other end was longer. "Yes, I _know_ Angel killed Darla for me. But that's not the same as candy and roses. I mean, as romantic gestures go, it doesn't exactly make the list, does it?"

Willow said something else and Buffy sighed unhappily. "Okay, he's been there for me. But so have the rest of you and you don't do a disappearing act just when things get intense. With Billy, I could give the normal gal routine another try."

She paused. "Well, maybe it won't be like Owen! Face it, that boy had _issues_. I'm gonna try somebody among the living, breathing and sane for a change. And Billy is somebody my mom knows about unlike Angel so that's another mark on the positive side of the chart." She listened a little while longer. "'Kay, Willow. See you at school tomorrow." She clicked the off button and hung up. 

Willow was really nervous. Well, she wasn't nervous that Angel was going to bite her throat out. If that had been her number one concern, she'd never have invited him into her room. She wasn't _stupid_ or anything. But Angel was jealous and a jealous bloodsucking creature of the night might be inclined to do something rash. Rash as in the destruction-of-property kind of rash.

After hanging up on Buffy, she'd been startled to see Angel at her window. It wasn't a surprise knowing he wanted to talk about Buffy. Hearing that he was leery of Billy wasn't much of a shock, either. So she was pleased and eager that he wanted to use her vaunted computer skills. However, she was beginning to wonder if having an oversized vampire in her room was such a good idea. Angel was such a…hovering presence.

Right now he was leaning over her shoulder and breathing into her hair. Except that he wasn't breathing which made the whole lurking bit even more unnerving. No, make that annoying; nobody liked it when people leaned over your shoulder while you were working. Finally she was fed up with it.

"Angel, will you quit it?" The vampire moved back and she relaxed. "That's better." Then she peered at the computer screen. "Hey, that's weird."

"What is?" The brunette vampire squinted at the screen and tried to make sense of the information.

"I just checked the school records and Billy's not in them. I mean, they usually transfer your grades and stuff but he's not even in them."

Angel was glad to see his suspicions confirmed although he worried about what that meant for Buffy. "And he should be, right? He said he was in school with Buffy."

"Uh huh. Something about getting transferred here along with his dad." Just then she heard her mother calling for her and she panicked. "Ack! Go!" she whispered, shooing Angel away. "I-I'm not supposed to have boys in my room!"

Angel nodded and walked to the balcony. Then he paused, staring at Willow. "Willow, thanks for helping. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Buffy what you found out tonight…or about seeing me."

The redheaded girl was immediately dismayed. "You want me to lie to her? It's Buffy!"

"It's not lying. You're just not telling her the truth. We really don't have enough to go on and she'll put my interest down to mere jealousy. We just found out Billy lied about being in school with Buffy. We still don't know why. We should keep a lid on this until we know more."

Willow nodded reluctantly. Lying to or hiding things from her friends went against the grain. But Angel was trusting her and she felt kinda proud at the thought that he was counting on her help. Besides, if she didn't tell Buffy, there was always somebody else she could confide in…

"I knew something was up with this Billy guy!" Xander crowed while stabbing at his congealing noodles.

"Actually, you didn't know. Angel was the one who picked up weirdness on his vampire-o-meter," Willow replied. She'd filled Xander in on Angel's late night visit over school lunch. After enduring his pissy questions about what she was doing letting a dangerous fiend into her room, she'd been subjected to self-satisfied "I told you sos" about Fordham until she couldn't stand it.

The brunette boy mumbled around a mouthful of pasta. "Well, score one for Deadboy. How do we break this to Buffy?"

"We don't. We don't want to upset Buffy until we know more." Willow eyed the graying lumps of meat on her tray critically.

"You mean Deadboy doesn't want Buffy to know he's jealous about the new man in her life," Xander corrected. He pointed a fork at her untouched food. "You gonna eat that?"

The redhead shoved the tray towards him. "Be my guest. And I think you might try following his lead and not showing how jealous you are."

"I'm not jealous! I just thought it was uncool of Buffy to ditch us for a guy who used to ignore her back at her old school. That so not friendly to us, her friends!" He huffed in self-pity and tore into the lumpy meat swimming around in the thin gravy.

Willow grimaced and tried not to watch him devouring the questionable meal. "I think she might have been a little lonely."

"With us around? Surely you jest!"

"Well, with Billy she gets to be with somebody she knew way back when. S-sometimes I think she feels left out with the two of us. We have a whole history she's not a part of and that must be hard on her."

"Maybe." Xander chewed determinedly on the tough meat before swallowing. "But, hey, she can make new history with us! Just let her hang with us for awhile, say, a few dozen years. She'll forget all about these fly-by-nighter sophomore guys."

Willow shook her head and sighed. It was gonna be a long school day. 

She scowled at the two males with her. Xander had been reluctant to travel with Angel until Willow had stressed how the vampire's suspicion had put them on the right trail. However, the two were digging in their heels when she mentioned telling Mrs. Summers. "Willow, I don't see why Buffy's mother has to be involved in this," Angel said.

"She told Buffy she doesn't want anything about the slaying being hidden from her," Willow argued.

"But, Wills, we don't know if this is anything to do with the slaying gig. For all we know, Billy may be your average run-of-the-mill creep," Xander protested. "Should we get that good woman all riled up over nothing? I mean, she's still recovering from the whole 'Oh my god, my daughter's out killing the undead' news we sprang on her. Besides, we can probably handle it."

"Shouldn't she know what's going on in Buffy's life? I talked to Buffy and her mom's really psyched about her getting together with Billy." She didn't miss the unhappy look that flitted over Angel's face so she hurried on with her argument. "Besides, I'm thinking she'll listen to her mom more than us if Mrs. Summers tells her this kid's bad news."

Xander huffed. "Fine. And what if Buffy's there? What do we tell her? Say we're taking her mother out for a night at the Bronze?"

"Buffy isn't there right now. She's out with Billy." Angel's jaw clenched so tightly she wondered why he didn't break teeth.

"Already? Damn, for somebody who gave her the cold shoulder in high school, he's a fast mover. I wonder how Mrs. Summers could let an older boy put the moves on her only daughter. No offense, Deadboy," he told Angel.

"I told you not to call me that, Xander," Angel rapped out. Xander grinned snarkily as they headed towards the house on Revello Drive. He decided to ignore the boy for the time being. "I still can't believe that Mrs. Summers knows about the slaying. Does she know about me, Willow?"

"Nope," Xander chimed in. "I wanted to tell her but Buffy evidently still thinks of you as a deep, ugly secret. Guess telling her mom she's dating a bloodsucking corpse wouldn't really go down well with her."

"Well, it beats dating an oversized praying mantis or a life-draining mummy," Willow retorted.

"Life-draining mummy?" Angel murmured, glancing at the redhead. 

Xander wasn't about to let any of that slide. "I wasn't dating Ms. French! She asked me to her house for tutoring and she was really using me in a diabolically scheme to be the sperm donor for her eggs. And Ampata tricked me. She tricked all of us. I didn't know what she was. Besides, you went to meet some guy who turned out to be a demon that you contacted on the Internet which all the experts tell us is a big, fat dating no-no for us teens. Honestly, Willow, you're supposed to be one of the smart ones." He shook his head sadly, making tsk-tsking noises.

Willow shuffled her feet uncomfortably. "Whatever. The fact is we've all made weird dating choices so we shouldn't go throwing stones. Right, Angel?"

He shrugged. "I suppose. Now what cover story are you going to use to explain me to Mrs. Summers, Willow?"

"Thanks for driving us, Mrs. Summers," Willow told her gratefully. Reminding the other two that Joyce had a getaway car in case they needed to make, well, a getaway had been the clincher for her argument that she be involved. 

"No problem, Willow. I was really surprised to learn you'd been investigating Billy Fordham. You still haven't explained why you were so distrustful about him in the first place."

Willow began chattering as she got out of the car. "Well, since I've been with Buffy, I've been trying to hone my, um, instincts! And I got a strange vibe from him. Didn't you get a vibe, Xander?" 

Xander nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah. Big ugly vibeiness. Inner sirens going off and screaming 'Intruder Alert!' That sort of thing."

Angel added, "He also left no paper trail and no records. That's rather incriminating to me. And Willow couldn't turn up anything about him except the name and address of this place."

"I see." Joyce peered narrowly at Angel. "And you say you've been helping Buffy with her…night work? Where do you come into this exactly?"

"That's what I keep asking myself," Xander muttered.

"I was sent by higher powers to help Buffy on her path. They haven't told me anything about it since then. I'm just a fighter for the good side like Giles, Mrs. Summers."

"Oh." Joyce was uncertain how much of this information she should take seriously. This Angel had a curious stillness and maturity she'd rarely witnessed in boys of his age. He was also rather reticent about his role in Buffy's life. Everything about him was setting off her Mom radar; privately she resolved to have a chat with Buffy about him when she got her daughter alone. And who were these higher powers he mentioned? She had a feeling it didn't have anything to do with the government.

The quartet peered up at the structure. From without the Sunset Club appeared rather unimposing, looking more like a warehouse than anything else. Joyce thought that for a club it was rather lacking in class. They couldn't hear anything from the outside. "Well, it looks like we're going in. Cover me!" Xander joked and rapped at the door.

The viewport opened and the doorman peered out at them. "We're friends of Billy's," Angel said. The unseen guard nodded, opening the door.

"Gotta love the security in this place," Xander whispered.

"Yeah, anybody else think that was too easy?" Willow responded in an equally low voice.

"Why are you whispering?" Angel asked. "There's nothing here except a crowd of…" He peered over the guardrail into the depths of the club below. "Really badly dressed humans," he finished.

"Humans? Why shouldn't they be human? And how can you tell anyway?" Joyce probed.

"Uh, uh, well, look at how they're dressed!" Willow babbled. "Think any vampire would be this obvious?" Indeed, the denizens in the club looked like rejects from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Pancake makeup, Goth wear, fright wigs and silly capes seemed the norm. Joyce wondered what kind of spooky dress-up games these children were playing. No one seemed above the age of twenty and she felt very much out of place. 

Evidently she wasn't the only one. Xander slumped, trying to make his loud clothes less visible. "In no way do we stick out like sore thumbs."

Angel scanned the club intently, looking for anything the slightest bit deadly about this bunch. "Let's spread out. You guys check downstairs."

"Sure thing, Bossy the cow!" Xander called after his retreating back. He descended the stairs with Willow and Joyce. Any jumpiness they may have felt disappeared. These kids weren't dangerous. They were actually kinda nerdy. They were talking about death and being eternally young and treading the dark paths. Xander was the first to comment about it. "Are you probably noticing a theme here?" 

"You mean 'Vampires Yay?' ''  Willow answered.

He nodded. "That's the one." 

A girl wearing blood-red lipstick and white greasepaint smeared on her face walked up to them. "You guys are newbies. I can tell."

Willow spun to face her and eyed her long gown and neckband. Prom wear along with the death-warmed-over look. She could just hear what Cordelia Chase would have to say about this girl's outfit. "No. We come here all the time."

The girl continued to babble on, her enthusiastic prattle at distinct odds with her gloomy attire. "Don't be ashamed! It's cool that you're open to it. We welcome anyone who's interested in the Lonely Ones."

Willow couldn't believe her ears. "The Lonely Ones?"

"You're talking about vampires, aren't you," Joyce said, staring this sweet-looking girl in the eyes. It wasn't a question. 

She nodded, her face lighting up. "That's right. I'm Chantarelle, by the way." She blinked and took note of Joyce Summers's obvious age difference. "You're kinda older than the usual people we get in here."

"That's because I'm an adult. I'm mature. And sane," Joyce replied. "Vampires aren't cute and cuddly, dear, and they're not something a child should be fixating on. Actually, nobody should be fixating on them. What do you poor children think you're doing?"

Chantarelle lifted her chin defiantly. "We're not children and we're not stupid. Vampires aren't dangerous. They're misunderstood creatures who've been unfairly stigmatized by unreal representations of them on TV and silly horror movies."

"Another member of the Anne Rice fan club. Man, that woman has a lot to answer for," Xander mumbled to Willow, rolling his eyes.

"My dear, vampires are _not_ lonely," Joyce said sharply. "They travel in packs just like rats. I should know; a bunch of them attacked Sunnydale High on Parent/Teacher night. I happened to be there when they did it. They murdered two people."

"Really?" This question came from another club member, a chubby girl whose black-on-black studded leather-and-fishnet garb did nothing to hide her obvious youth. She appeared to be around sixteen or so; Joyce wondered what her mother could be thinking to let her leave the house dressed like that.

A young man in a shiny blue cape retorted, "Don't listen to her. People pretend to be scared of vampires. But who wouldn't want to be one? You get to be young and good-looking forever." He raked Mrs. Summers with an attempt at a sneer. "You look okay for your age. But when things start sagging, you're gonna wish the clock had stopped at 19 just like anybody else."

Joyce replied in an even tone, "The clock doesn't stop when you become a vampire. Everything stops. You die and become a walking corpse. That's the bottom line." She looked around. They had managed to draw a small crowd as curious listeners came out of the woodwork. "Is that what you're all hoping for? That you'll become vampires?"

"Well, yeah. Like Marvin says—" Chantarelle said.

"Diego. It's Diego now. Dammit, is that so hard to remember?" Shiny Blue Cape whined.

Joyce raised her voice so that the others could hear. "Vampires are _not_ friendly. They are vicious predators, no more cuddly than wolves. The ones who attacked the school tried to kill my daughter. If you turn yourselves over to them, they'll kill you, too. Trust me on this." 

A shocked murmur ran through the club at this information. Some of the members began to look uncertain and a little scared. Diego tried to regain control of the situation. "Come on, people! She's lying. I mean, if vampires attacked the school, why is she still alive?"

"Because of the Slayer," Angel said from the stairs.

"The what?" Chantarelle asked. Her eyes fastened on the tall, dark, handsome stranger and her heart fluttered in her chest. He radiated power and there was an exotic allure to him that was almost like that of the creatures whose world she yearned to join. 

"The Slayer. You've never heard of her?" He leaned against the rail and regarded them all with almost casual contempt.

"Angel! What are you doing?" Willow whispered.

Xander jumped on the stairs beside Angel and hissed into his ear. "Yeah, Deadboy. Giving away trade secrets like this, not what we had in mind for the evening's performance."

Angel paid him no heed. "The Slayer is the protector of mankind, even foolish little children like you. She saved most of the people in that school including these good folks here." He nodded in the direction of the others. "Those vampires meant to kill all those people just as any vampires you meet would kill you. The Slayer prevented that. That's why this woman is alive. So listen to her when she warns you about vampires." He swept them with a laserlike gaze and then turned to exit the club.

Joyce appealed to them just once more. "Please. I don't know why you're all so eager to throw away your lives when you have so much time ahead of you. But, if any of you want to give this up, it's not too late."

Some of the kids began edging towards the exit, ignoring the hisses and boos that came from the stubborn. Marvin, er, Diego and Chantarelle watched Xander, Willow, Joyce and Angel leave. "Those people were friends of Ford's?" Chantarelle asked uncertainly.

Diego threw the departing members a menacing glare. Actually, he only thought it looked menacing. Nobody had had the heart to tell him he looked as if he'd gotten something stuck in his eye. "I'm telling Ford about this."

Mrs. Summers sat in the car and watched the stragglers exiting from the club. She counted maybe nine people who'd decided to rethink the whole immortality scam; that wasn't even a fifth of their number. There had been so many more of those deluded kids in there. How could any of them think being a vampire was a wonderful life? It was a blow to learn Billy was mixed up in this foolishness. He'd seemed such a nice boy when Buffy described him. Well, you never could tell with people. She pursed her lips and started the car.

After delivering Willow and Xander to their homes, she insisted on inviting Angel into her house. He had tried gracefully to withdraw but she had been adamant. There was more going on here than just friendship between Buffy and this man; she could sense it. Unfortunately, her interrogation was cut short when Buffy and Billy returned, both chattering animatedly with each other. Angel stood up and Buffy halted, dismayed and a little peeved at seeing him.

"Oh! Mom, hi. Ford was just walking me home. Uh, bye, Ford!" 

"Buffy, wait. And you, young man. Get in here," Joyce stated in a tone that brooked no refusal.

Buffy and Billy stared at each other uncertainly. Billy stammered, "I-I've really got to get going. My folks are gonna be worried about me…"

Angel gave Mrs. Summers a meaningful look. "Actually, I think _Ford_ should leave. It's getting late." 

Joyce wavered. She didn't know Angel at all. But what she'd heard him say at that club and Willow's apparent trust of him led her to believe he had Buffy's welfare at heart. There was a tense silence. Then Billy smiled feebly and exited the house as fast as he could. 

"I'm going to follow him. See where he goes," Angel said and glided after the young man on silent feet.

Buffy grabbed at his arm. "Just a minute! What gives you the right to go spying on my friends?"

"Buffy, let him go. You and I need to talk—about a few things." She glanced in Angel's direction and then back at her daughter.

Buffy hesitated and looked between her mother and Angel. She didn't know how her mom had met him but they already seemed pretty chummy, especially about her choice in male friends. She reluctantly released Angel and turned back to her mother after he left. "Okay, Mom. Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Angel and I were just having a little talk." Joyce crossed her arms and surveyed her daughter's suddenly guilty expression. "Willow introduced me to him tonight. Seems he's been helping you in your nightly crusade against the forces of darkness. Frankly, I'm surprised you never mentioned him. I would have thought a fellow fighter against evil wouldn't be something you'd keep to yourself." 

Her mother's dry tone didn't escape Buffy. She wished she'd had more time to prepare a suitable story about her vampire beau. Instead she decided to hedge a little. "Well, he doesn't always fight with me. He usually just kinda pops in, tell me when there's evil a-brewing and then disappears again. I can go for nights without seeing him. Not what I'd call Mr. Reliable."

"Really? But he seemed to know about what happened on Parent/Teacher night. He was there, wasn't he?"

"Maybe. I didn't see him." That was the truth. He'd gone off with Xander and disappeared before she could talk to him. No lie there. She decided to get things back to safer ground. "You said you wanted to talk about Billy."

Joyce didn't miss the abrupt change in topic. But Billy _was_ the more pressing problem. "Angel, Xander, Willow and I were concerned about Billy. It seems Willow did a little hacking and discovered Billy hasn't exactly been truthful about his staying here in Sunnydale. He's not registered at your school. In fact, there are no records about him at all."

"Willow was checking up on Billy? Why would she do that?" Buffy demanded.

"She said she was honing her instincts or some such thing," Joyce responded, waving her hands. "I don't know. Don't ask me to figure out modern day paranoia. Nowadays background checks seem to be as common as checking the brake fuel on a car."

"So Billy's not registered. Maybe his records were late in arriving. That happens sometimes."

"Perhaps. But we found out something else tonight, something rather disturbing. It seems Billy is an aficionado of a cult of vampire worshippers."

"What? No, mom, that's not right. He staked a vampire on his way over here tonight!" 

"Did you see him stake the vampire?" Joyce asked.

"Uh, well, no." Now that Buffy thought about it, she hadn't seen a telltale pile of dust. 

Joyce hated to be the one to burst Buffy's bubble. But what she'd seen at the Sunset Club disturbed her greatly. "Buffy, we were there. There were these teenagers, no older than you, all wearing these cheap Halloween outfits. They were all talking about embracing your inner darkness or similar nonsense. And they knew Billy. That's how we got in—by mentioning his name."

"That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it's one of those role-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons or Pokemon." Buffy was grasping at straws here but what her mother was saying couldn't be true. 

"Buffy, Angel told me he'd heard of people like this before, people who tell themselves fairytales about vampires, who are drawn to the allure of living forever. He called them foolish little children and when I told them how you'd been attacked on Parent/Teacher night…"

Buffy interrupted, "You told them that?" 

"Don't worry; I didn't give away your secret. I merely wanted them to understand just how dangerous vampires are. When I told them that, some of them looked frightened and they left. Does that sound like people playing a harmless game to you?"

Buffy sat down on the couch. She didn't want to believe any of this. But her mother had been to this club with Xander and the others. Why would Billy be involved with people like that? Oh god, had she found another version of Owen? Why did this keep happening to her? She buried her head in her hands and sighed unhappily. 

Joyce sat beside her and hugged her tightly. That Mr. Giles may have thought of Buffy as a seasoned fighter. But he would have had to revise his opinion if he saw her now. Buffy was still so very young, not even 17 years old. She shouldn't have to learn this early in life how treacherous and deceitful people could be.

The next moment her daughter looked up and Joyce was astounded at the change in her. The disappointment had vanished from her face. Instead a look of cold determination had settled there. "Okay, Mom. Say I believe you. We still don't know why Ford is pretending to be vamp hunting with me and vamp loving with those other people."

"Let's look at what we know, dear," Joyce mused. "Billy knows that you're a Slayer. But those other people there didn't even know Slayers existed."

"You guys talked about slaying?" Buffy's eyebrows shot up.

"Angel mentioned it. He didn't tell them your name. He just told how Slayers protect people. They'd never heard of them."

"So Ford knows something he hasn't told to his people. I'm also betting they don't know he's out there running around with stakes in his pockets either," Buffy said. "So the question is, who's zooming who here?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Buffy stood up and began pacing as she tried to sort things out in her head. "Ford is lying to us and lying to his friends. So we're all being set up for something. Since his friends are under the delusion that vampires are their friends and Ford is playing this up to them…"

"—Then they're probably going to be in for a rude surprise when they do meet actual vampires. Somehow I don't think any vampire would want to have those silly children around them forever."

Buffy stopped as she faced her mother. "That's it, then. That's Ford's plan. He's going to offer up his friends as vampire chow."

Joyce sucked in her breath at that awful revelation. "Oh those poor kids. We can't even warn them. We tried tonight but most of them wouldn't listen to us."

"Yeah, I guess they've bought into the whole die-young-live-forever insurance plan."

"There're just a couple of things I don't understand. What does Billy get out of this? And where do you fit into the picture? If he knows you're the Slayer, the last thing he should want is to have you involved. Surely he'd know you'd try to stop him."

"Except he doesn't know that I know. I was supposed to be kept on the ignorant list, too. So I'm being set up as well. I just don't know what for. I mean, Billy isn't a great inhuman evil. He's just a guy! He's a guy I knew back from Hemery, for Pete's sake! Why would he do this?"

The dejection had settled in her daughter's eyes again and her mother hated to see it there. She was desperate to figure this out, however. There was a terrible danger here not just to these dizzy teens but to Buffy as well. There was an obvious conclusion here, something both she and her clever daughter were missing. 

There came a knock on the door and both women jumped. "Buffy, were you expecting anybody tonight?"

"No, but that's about par for the course." She opened the front door and wasn't the least bit surprised to see the souled vampire on the doorstep. "Angel. Back so soon?"

Angel strode in without ceremony. "It's about Fordham. It's worse than we thought. He's planning on turning you over to the Anointed One tomorrow night."

That was a phrase Joyce hadn't heard before now. "The Anointed One? Who's that?"

Angel peered at the diminutive blond. "You didn't tell her?"

The older woman's eyes narrowed. "Didn't tell me what? Buffy, I thought we'd agreed on this." 

"Mom, I thought the Anointed One wasn't important. I mean, he's just a child." 

"A vampire childe, you mean," Angel murmured.

"Angel, I beg you not to help," Buffy gritted out.

Joyce looked at her daughter. "Okay, obviously I've been kept in the dark about a few things. Who or what is this Anointed One? He's a vampire, right?"

Angel nodded. "He was created by the Master last year."

"The Master?"

"Head vampire around these parts," Buffy filled in. "Or at least he was. I killed him." She wanted to warn Angel not to speak and give away too much of that story. But she couldn't signal him by so much as a look. Her mother was keeping a careful eye on the two of them and she couldn't risk her figuring out the details behind the Master's final dusting.

"You killed this Master last year and I'm only learning about it now?" She sighed. "Of course; you and your friends have been covering this up for a long time." Angel was subjected to a piercing glance. "And you've been helping this entire time, too?"

"That's right, ma'am. But that's a story for another night. Buffy's in danger from this Fordham. He wants to trade her to the Anointed One in exchange for becoming a vampire."

"You heard him say that?" Buffy asked. She had still clung to the slender hope that it wasn't true, that Ford hadn't been planning to betray _her_, at least. Now it looked like that last hope was gone. 

"Absolutely. I was thinking of nabbing him on the way out. But, other than holding him hostage at my apartment, I really don't know what to do with him."

Joyce reminded them of the matter at hand. "It's not just Buffy who's in danger. We believe Billy is planning to serve up his friends to these vampires as well. We could try to warn them again," she added uncertainly.

Angel was sure that wouldn't help. "We tried that this evening, Mrs. Summers. Short of seeing an actual vampire attack, nothing is going to change these people's minds about what vampires are really like."

"Then that's what we give them," Joyce decided. 

"What?" That came from both Buffy and Angel. 

"Even if we manage to save them from their own stupidity this time by shutting down the club, kidnapping this boy or killing all the vampires that are planning to make a meal out of them, these delusional teenagers would just set up another meeting place elsewhere and contact the local undead and become prey for them. They have to see vampires for what they are: vicious, bloodthirsty killers."

"And how do we do that, Mom?"

Giles stood at the front door, fidgeting under his cape. "I have to say this is a reckless and foolish idea."

"Duly noted, Mr. Giles," Joyce whispered. She and the others kept out of sight. Giles was the only one standing within eyesight of the door since he was the only one of Buffy's group the Sunset Club members hadn't previously met. Hopefully, the robes they were wearing would cause them to blend in and no one would question them. Tonight, the clothing would serve a dual purpose.

When the view port opened, Giles said, "W-we're friends of Ford's."

"Really? Man, that guy is sending some serious business our way. Come right in." The door opened and the members of Buffy's gang surged forward and pushed their way inside. "Hey, quit shoving! There's plenty of space." 

The hoods were scratchy and severely limited their vision. Willow's nose twitched and she sneezed. "Where did Angel get these things? Were they in storage or something?" 

"He said they were in the Master's old lair. Seems he had a big wardrobe from the old days. Who knew vampires were such clothes horses?" Xander replied. He tripped on the dragging hem of his costume and staggered against a familiar figure in a sparkly cape. 

Diego's drink spilled onto the gleaming fabric and he gaped in dismay. He cried, "Shit! Look what you did! Do you know how expensive it is to get this dry-cleaned?" Then he did a double take and his gaze got hostile as he recognized the brown-eyed boy. "I remember you, you, unbeliever! You're _persona non grata_ here."

"Oh, but bloodsucking fiends are always welcome, I suppose," Giles muttered under his breath. He and Joyce kept their faces averted as they unobtrusively took up their positions.

Willow smiled at Diego and chirped, "We thought we'd come back for another look. Hey, where do we sign up to get the free blood?"

"You changed your minds?" Diego took in their cloaks and the crudely applied white makeup. 

Xander shrugged and made a clumsy attempt to adjust his outfit. "Actually, we weren't that down on it. It was just those two old people with us who didn't get the scene. Parents—what do they know?"

Diego considered. When he thought about it, the brunette and the cute redhead hadn't really said anything against vampirism. It was just that tall, annoying stranger Chantarelle kept staring at and the old woman who'd reamed their lifestyle choice. He grudgingly waved them towards the bar. "Well, okay. As long as you're tolerant. A lot of people weren't cool about your friends making a scene, you know."

Xander grinned and rubbed his hands together. "All right! Everybody in the crypt go Hey!" he said and scampered after Diego.

Ford was pissed. Diego had come up to him with Xander and Willow in tow and he had to resist the urge to smack him. Buffy's friends were the last people he wanted to see in this place. "Why didn't you tell me—" He noted the pair's avid gazes trained on his face and changed what he was going to say. "—That you guys were coming here? How did you find out about this place, anyway?"

"Well, this is a small town, Billy. News travels fast," Willow replied.

"And practically the only place worth going to is the Bronze. So when a new hotspot opens up, well, gosh darn it, we teens have just got to check it out," Xander finished. He waved his glass of wine around, not noticing Diego's flinch when some nearly splashed on his cape again. "Gotta say I love the death-on-death décor. Who's your designer? Count Dracula?"

Willow added, "Yeah, where can I get one of those long dresses? They're so Elvira-Mistress-of-the-Darky." 

Ford glared daggers at Diego who was starting to get distinctly nervous. Why was the boss man so upset? Diego stammered, "Um, we really don't go in for the stereotypes shown on TV."

Willow pretended to be disappointed. "So I don't get to keep a vampire bat as a pet?"

Xander patted her arm. "Cheer up, Wills. I can always get you a tarantula or one of those creepy plants like Morticia had on The Addams Family."

The redhead beamed at him. "Really? You are the bestest boyfriend!" She gave in to impulse and kissed him on the cheek.

Xander flushed and then smiled feebly at Ford. "Women. They're all over you when you give 'em presents, huh?"

Ford rubbed his temples as pain lanced through his skull. "Yeah. Women. Hey, Xander, do you mind if I talk to my friend in private?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Diego's arm and dragged him away. He pulled him up to the stairs and hissed at him. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"W-what's the matter? They said they were friends of yours when they came yesterday."

Billy froze as he stared Diego down. "They were in here yesterday? Why didn't you say something earlier?"

As always when he was chastised, Diego took refuge in sulking. "I have to do everything around here. Sorry, Mr. Flawless Plan Guy, it slipped my mind."

Chantarelle walked up to them, her fingers drumming on the railing. "When are they getting here, Ford? I need them to bless me. It's gonna be alright, isn't it? They're not gonna let us down?"

Ford winced and rubbed his forehead again. The pain was back and hearing Chantarelle's whiny voice wasn't helping. God, sometimes he could have gladly strangled her and Diego for the shit they put him through. "It's gonna be fine."

"No," said a voice above them. "It's really not." Buffy stood above them on the stairs, her icy gaze locked on the brunette boy standing next to Diego and Chantarelle. She started walking down the stairs never losing sight of Ford for a moment. She had already spotted her friends and mother in the crowd; she sincerely hoped her mother's plan would work.

Ford waved casually at Diego. "It's a little drafty in here, don't you think?" Diego understood and scuttled around the descending blond as he made his way upstairs.

She flashed Billy a brilliant smile. "I'm sorry, Ford. I just couldn't wait 'til tonight to meet you. I'm rash and impulsive. It's a flaw."

He shrugged wearily. "We've all got flaws."

Buffy stopped at the bottom of the steps and gave him a hard glare. "And apparently yours is that you're a lying scumbag." She shoved him against a pillar. "You were going to turn me over to those vamps, weren't you? What, did you think I wouldn't figure it out?"

He grinned and the remorseless expression chilled her to the bone. "Actually, I was counting on it." He laughed giddily and then began coughing. She stepped away from him, confused by both his out-of-place humor and the coughing fit.

"Why are you doing this? What about life is so sucky that you're throwing it away?"

This time his smile seemed laced with a kind of insanity as he crowed, "This is so cool! This is just how I imagined it. You, the big hero, wanting to know what the plan is. Me, telling you…" His gaze drifted up the stairs. "It's already happening."

Diego swung the inner door shut with a clang. Buffy ran up to the door and began pounding on it. Even with her Slayer strength she couldn't make a single dent. Ford called up to her. "Rigged up special. Once it's closed, it can only be opened from the outside. As soon as the sun sets, they'll be comin'."

She glared hatefully at him. "Okay, I know you were planning to feed me to them. But why them? Why your friends?"

Diego paled and glanced down at Ford. "U-us? Ford, what's she talkin' about?"

His face twisted and he spat, "Nothing. She's lying. The vamps are coming for her and just her. The rest of us are gonna ascend tonight."

"Oh, I don't think so." She turned to Diego and smiled sweetly. "See, your average vampire is a hungry beastie and we're talkin' vamps _plural_ here. So they won't be satisfied with just me. They're gonna eat you." Her eyes darted to Chantarelle. "And you." She gazed at every member of the club near her. "And you and you and you. Wow, they've got a veritable smorgasbord to choose from and they can even get seconds." 

She walked back down the stairs and addressed the backstabbing bastard who was selling out his pals. "What I still don't get is why, Ford."

"They're gonna make me one of them."

Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "And again I ask why? Why would you want an eternity of bloodstained clothes and rotten crypt body odor? Are you insane?"

"You don't understand," he whispered. "I don't wanna die."

"Neither do they but you're still serving them up on the menu. They don't deserve to die."

He shrugged again. "Well, neither do I. But apparently no one took that into consideration 'cause I'm still dying." Buffy stared at him, noting the flinch of agony and the pills he pulled out of his pocket. 

"I look good, don't I?" he muttered bitterly. "Well, let me tell you something. I've got six months left and by then what they bury won't even _look_ like me. It'll be bald and shriveled and it'll smell bad. No, I'm not going out that way." He smirked at the shocked look on her face. "I'm sorry, Summers. Did I screw up your righteous anger riff? Does the nest of tumors liquefying my brain spoil your fun?"

Joyce couldn't hear what Buffy and Billy were arguing about from where she was standing. It was obviously intense judging by the conflicting emotions flying across her daughter's face. She glanced at her watch and noted the time. Looking up, she caught a sharp nod from Mr. Giles and tightened her grip.

Buffy was done trying to convince Ford to stop his plan. It was no use anyway; the bomb shelter they were in was lined with three feet of concrete and there was only one door. The humans in here were trapped. She contented herself with smiling at Ford as she saw his growing unease. "What's the matter, Ford? Your toothy friends late? That's what happens when you're around forever. You kinda forget about little things like keeping track of time. And you're overlooking a few things."

Keeping his eyes greedily fastened on the door, his answer was sneering and dismissive. "Oh yeah. Like what?"

"My friends are here with me."

"I know. Too bad for them. They'll be vampire kibble like everybody else."

She shook her head and it was her turn to smirk. "Not really. They're not sheep like the rest of your people. _They_ came prepared." At his startled glance she looked at the club door. "And I've got a man on the outside." 

If looks could kill, Ford's would have struck her dead on the spot. He spun around to cry out a warning to his friends and she slugged him hard in the jaw. As he crumpled to the floor, Diego ran to his fallen leader only to cringe as she balled up her fists. "T-that's not gonna stop us. They're still coming and then we're all gonna be changed."

She scanned him up and down with a measuring stare. "Not in that dorky outfit, you're not."

The vamps sauntered up to the club door, laughing and licking their chops. They couldn't believe it when that stupid human had come wandering through the door. The Anointed One had been seriously pissed at the lapse in security until that boy had told them his plan to deliver up the Slayer. Some of the vampires were pessimistic, insisting it was a trap. But even now they could smell human meals—lots of them—just waiting behind the door.

"What about this Slayer? She's dangerous, right? I mean, she took out the Master." This fledgling was nervous and rightfully so. He'd heard the story about how this girl had bested the Master and scattered his ashes like so much confetti.

Another older vampire scowled at him, the action making his ridges even more pronounced. "Don't worry about her. She doesn't know we're coming and we've got her outnumbered."

"So the Slayer's in there. Mind if I join the party?" Angel said. He glided from the darkness behind the other vampires and they paused in surprise.

The older vampire, Lucius, growled at the sight of the stranger. "This is kind of a private party. Invitation for the Anointed One's clan only."

"Well, then, I should definitely be in on this. You see, I'm family. One of the Master's grandchilder, actually." He had stepped into position, effectively cutting off their retreat. He kept his stance loose and casual, his hands relaxed by his sides.

Lucius wasn't entirely convinced. Something about this guy seemed off although he couldn't put his finger on what it was. "Oh yeah? How come we've never seen you before then?"

"I'm shy." Without another word, Angel whipped out the short sword he'd hidden under his coat and sliced it through Lucius's neck. He ran through the falling ashes and charged the other vampires before they could recover from the shock. Without weapons, many of them were sitting ducks for his whirlwind attack. 

The door rattled and banged open as a few of the panicking, fleeing vampires still left charged through the only retreat from the turncoat vampire in their wake. Chantarelle was caught by surprise as one of the vamps barreled into her, knocking her to the walkway. She cringed away from the grotesque visage and screamed as he snarled and ripped off her florid neckband. 

Angel had bested many of the vampires. A few had managed to dodge him and run into the night. On any other occasion he would have hunted them down instead of allowing them to escape. But Buffy needed him inside. So he pressed his advantage and slashed at the remaining bloodsuckers who threw open the club door to escape him. He staked the vampire holding down Chantarelle and snapped at her to get up and out of his way.

Inside the club, all became pandemonium as the vampires charged down the stairs, torn between their urge to get away from Angel and the desire to feast on the delicious humans waiting. One vampire, Kevin, made a desperate attempt to appeal to the souled demon. "Dude, what is your damage? You're attacking the wrong people! There are plenty of humans here if you want to share! Are you out of your mind?"

"Nope. Just souled," Angel answered as his sword curved in a sweeping arc through the bloodsucker's neck. 

"Everybody get down!" Xander yelled and he and Willow pulled out their double crossbows from under their cloaks and shot the nearest vamps. Joyce's weapon jammed before she could fire off the second shot and the vampire she'd missed charged at her, knocking the useless bow from her hand. He clutched her throat, squeezing until she gasped for breath. His head lowered to her neck and she smelled the fetid odor rolling from his mouth. 

[Oh. God. Buffy…I'm sorry…goodness, his breath is rotten. Don't vampires ever brush their teeth?] The inane thought flowed through her mind and her vision blurred at the edges as the oxygen was choked off from her brain. Then the vampire's features crumbled into dust and she coughed as Giles caught her. "Mr. Giles…thank…"

"Thank me later. Buffy and Angel still need our help." Actually, that was no longer true. The demons had been successfully trapped between Angel and the armed forces lying in wait. Those still standing were easily brought down by Buffy and Angel's flying fists and stakes. 

Xander, Willow, Giles and Joyce stood, shaking and panting heavily from their exertions. The Sunset Club members had escaped unscathed—from the physical trauma at any rate. Looking at their white faces (not entirely due to the makeup now), Buffy knew this was a night that would remain seared into their memories. Just as her mother had intended.

"Buffy, are you alright?" Angel said, staring into her face. Even now, covered with vamp dust, she was incredibly beautiful. Her hazel eyes shone, turning a moss green, and her breasts heaved with every breath, drawing his eyes to all the wrong places.

"Yeah. Mom?" She looked around for her mother and saw her leaning on Mr. Giles. She ran up to her and peered worriedly into her face. "Mom, are you okay?"

"Just fine, dear. I got a faceful of vampire breath but other than that I'm peachy."

Her daughter's nose wrinkled. "Ewww. Blood breath. Nasty."

"I'll say," Xander seconded. "Anybody want to grab a pizza to wash it out?"

"I wouldn't mind a pizza," Diego ventured.

Xander glared in his direction. "I wasn't talking to you, you pathetic vamp wannabe."

The sextet marched up the stairs and the club members fell away to let them pass. Passing by Ford's fallen body, Angel frowned. "Buffy, what do you want to do with him?"

She dismissed the unconscious boy. "Leave him. Either his devoted followers will pick him up or he can sleep it off here. In any case, he could use the rest. He's a _very_ sick individual."

Buffy was weary as she threw the empty pizza boxes into the garbage. Not being one for human munchies, Angel had disappeared at the front door after a swift, stolen kiss. She would have liked to have him around a little longer as her friends tore through the pizza, filled the house with laughter and silly comments about the night's activities, the awful get-ups worn by the Sunset Club devotees and sneers about Billy and his vampire aspirations. Her mom alone had been sympathetic, giving Buffy considerate glances whenever the conversation lagged. Finally, the others had gone home to sleep away their post-battle high.

Buffy plopped down on her bed. She was tired but she never felt less like sleeping. Her mother watched her from the doorway. Joyce murmured, "Well, as battles go, that was pretty lively. Is it always like that?"

"No. Tonight was…" She hesitated, not certain what she wanted to say. "Tonight was different."

Joyce guessed the cause of her ambivalence. "Because of Billy."

"Yeah. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Or feel. About him, I mean."

Joyce spoke softly to her. "You needn't say anything, honey."

"It'd be simpler if I could just hate him. I think he wanted me to. I think it made it easier for him to be the villain of the piece. Really he was just scared." She scowled and plucked at a loose thread on the bed sheet. Her mother sat beside her and said nothing only listened as Buffy tried to figure out the problem. "Nothing's ever simple any more. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just like, the more I know, the more confused I get."

Joyce replied, "I believe that's called growing up."

Buffy nestled closer to her mother and muttered, "Does it ever get easy?"

"You mean life?"

"Yeah. Does it get easy?"

Joyce raised her eyebrows at the half-teasing, half-pleading tone. "Honey, what do you want me to say?"

"Lie to me."

She sighed. "Yes, it's all very simple. It's just like in the fairy tales. The good guys are always true, brave and loyal and clad in shining armor. The bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy fangs and black hats and we always kick their butts and save the day. No one ever dies—well, no one for our side, anyway—and everybody lives happily ever after."

Buffy snorted. "Liar."

TBC


	4. Wanted: One Slayer for Active Employment

The Anointed One decided he hated crypts, even underground ones. They were dusty, smelly and crawling with rats although some of the newer minions quickly took care of those. Once the Slayer was dead, they were moving back above ground.

The Slayer. Thoughts of her always put him in a bad mood although he made certain not to show it too often. Temper tantrums from him were none too impressive. He had a feeling they made him look childish. Of course, he _was_ still a child technically and would always remain one. He'd thought that great once upon a time. But the novelty was rapidly fading.

When he went out with his minions (which he did as infrequently as possible), he was painfully aware of the difference between his height and theirs. He had trouble reaching anything above five feet and in commanding minions to fetch and reach things he'd caught fleeting smirks on their faces.

It had been different when the Master had been around. Even being trapped underground hadn't weakened his hold on the vampire community in this town. His height, great age, formidable strength and reputation as the head vampire in Sunnydale had made him feared and respected and, by extension, the Anointed One had come in for his share of that respect.

But thanks to the Slayer the Master was dead and without him the Anointed One was beginning to feel the loyalty of his minions slipping through his fingers. Fewer of them were returning from their nightly feedings. The survivors mumbled about running into the Slayer but the boy suspected that many of them were merely defecting to greener pastures.

He had his vampires creating new ones from among the populace but even that wasn't cutting it. The fledglings didn't know the departed Master's reputation and were unimpressed with the shrimp of a boy they were introduced to as his replacement. A lot of them had to be beaten into submission and even then served only with a sullen ill grace. 

Recruiting was also difficult with the Slayer at large. They had had to re-locate to avoid her and the new place wasn't as nice as the old warehouse. Something had to be done about her and the Anointed One had already set his plan in motion. Now if only that dopey minion would return…

The boy looked up as said minion slunk into the cavernous space. "Well?"

Dalton shuffled from side to side. He didn't like the idea of bringing outsiders into the mix—especially _these_ outsiders. "I did what you asked, sir. We got word to the Order of Taraka to take out the Slayer."

He nodded, satisfied. It had been easy getting together the bounty. Over the centuries the Master had amassed quite a store of loot from his human victims: money, jewelry, ancient junk. He'd managed to stash most of it in hidden locations around the world especially Sunnydale. The Anointed One's boys and girls had promised a mere fraction of it to the Order of Taraka if they could deliver the Slayer's head on a plate. That fraction would be enough to entice even the greediest of the bounty hunters.

The former child smiled at the image of the Slayer's blonde head on toast with a side order of eggs. He giggled childishly, ignoring the suddenly puzzled minion. Things were looking up.

Joyce paused in her packing. "Buffy, are you sure you're going to be all right?"

"Mom, for the umpteenth zillionth time, yes! You're only going to be gone until Thursday. You've been away from home longer than that. I can handle it."

"I know. It's just…" Joyce trailed off and waved her hand helplessly. "That was before I found out you were leaving the house at night to battle evil. Going off now for over three days just doesn't feel right. Maybe I should stay and send an assistant."

Buffy sighed, exasperated. "Mom, are you gonna become a homebody forever just 'cause I'm the Slayer? 'Cause that wouldn't be a 'just 'til you're in college, dear' kinda dealie. It would be more of a 'until you're in a retirement home' thing. I really don't think you want to stop being an outdoors person because of me."

"I know that, honey." Joyce sighed and sat on her bed next to the open suitcase. "I just can't help thinking I'm abandoning you. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her only daughter to fight the forces of darkness on her own and runs off to buy artwork, for goodness sakes? I feel like a bad mother."

Buffy sat down beside her mother and clasped one of her hands. "You're _not_ a bad mom. You're doing what you did when you and Dad broke up—trying to pay the bills." Buffy paused and searched her mother's face. They didn't discuss the divorce often. It was still a painful subject for both of them; there were a lot of old wounds there.

"Besides, I'm not alone. I'm got my gang of Superfriends working with me." She grinned as her mother snorted. Then Buffy continued in a gentler voice. "You're not gonna turn into one of those moms who're lovin' the guilt of working while their teenager kids do homework and stuff, are you? 'Cause that would be so fifties of you. You're a working mom and I'm the slaying daughter. We'll make this work. And could I sound any more like a prospective boyfriend?" She gave an exaggerated shudder.

Joyce laughed and squeezed her daughter's hand impulsively. "Thanks, sweetie. That makes me feel so much better." She rose and resumed packing while speaking to her blonde daughter. "I'm calling every day."

"Okay."

"I expect you to be home by a certain hour, slaying or no slaying," she added sternly.

"Gotcha."

"Because if I call here and get no answer—"

"Try calling me at Giles's place. Or Willow's. Or Xander's. Or the library even," Buffy chimed in hurriedly. The last thing she wanted was for her mother to cut her trip short and hurry back. She was hoping to get in quality smoochies with Angel and her mother's absence meant he wouldn't have to tiptoe around the house.

As if reading her mind, her mother paused and cocked her head at her daughter. "And what about Angel? Could I have his number as well?"

Buffy blinked and tried for an innocent expression. "Angel? Why would you need his number? I'm never at his place."

"Never? Oh, so you're not seeing him?" Her expression was casual but her tone made her daughter even more cautious.

"Seeing Angel? No, he's, like, an older guy and he only shows up to warn of danger. He's more like a cop than anything else."

"Yes, I got that impression when I was talking to him. He was rather closemouthed on the subject. All he would say is that he was supposed to work beside you and help you in the struggle against evil or some such thing." Joyce eyed her daughter pensively. Angel hadn't been very forthcoming and Buffy got really evasive whenever she spoke about him. Mrs. Summers was fairly certain there was more going on between her only child and that older boy. But neither of them had the appearance of two kids who were dating.

"But I really should have his number, don't you think?" she probed.

"_I_ don't have his number, Mom, so giving it is not really of the possible. Like I said, Angel just comes and goes when he likes. He's a little like Batman that way," Buffy said and cringed inwardly at how stupid that sounded.

"So maybe I should just send up a Batsignal when I want to reach him," Joyce joked. 

"Good idea. Wish I'd thought of it." Buffy glanced at the clock. "Shouldn't you get going? You don't want to be late."

Mrs. Summers finished packed and eyed the closed suitcase critically, going through her mental checklist to see if she had everything. Then she gathered her daughter close and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She was really trying not to smother her with worrying so she kept her goodbyes to a minimum. "Goodbye, honey. I'll see you late Thursday night." She hefted the suitcase and paused to consider. "Maybe when I get back, you can find this Angel and invite him over to dinner. I'd really like to know more about him."

Dinner? As in eating and drinking? Oh boy. Buffy tried to keep from panicking at the idea. So instead of replying, she pointed meaningfully at the clock. "Do I have to push you out the door?" she chided. "Go, go!" She stood in the front doorway as her mother waved at her and drove off. Then Buffy sagged against the closed door and puffed out her lips in a sigh. "God, I thought she'd never leave." She ran upstairs to get ready for the night's patrolling.

The school cafeteria was more than usually lively as all the students found a new topic of conversation. Xander peered at his test form. " 'Are you a people person, or do you prefer keeping your own company?' Well, what if I'm a people person who keeps his own company by default?"

Buffy shrugged. "So mark 'none of the above.' " 

Xander scanned the paper and huffed, "Well, there are no boxes for 'none of the above.' That would introduce too many variables into their mushroom head, number-crunching little world. Who thinks up silly ideas like 'Career Week' anyway? We're still young, crazy kids. Why are adults so eager to push us into the nine-to-five rat race grind they'd do anything to get out of?"

Willow sat next to them with her test. "I'm sensing bitterness."

Buffy checked her boxes dejectedly as Willow and Xander continued to chatter about their possible futures. She listened with half an ear as Willow and Xander debated their prospects and grimaced as Xander engaged in yet another exchange of biting sarcasm with Cordelia. Sometimes she wondered if she'd made a mistake saving Ms. Chase's life so repeatedly.

However, her life had been a lot like Cordelia's once. She'd been May Queen and popular with scads of empty-headed, giggly girlfriends. She'd worn fashionable clothes and had no bigger ambition than going to Paris and marrying Christian Slater. All that had ended when Merrick had shown up to tell her she had to go fight the vampires and sent all her lovely, adolescent dreams up in smoke. She sighed deeply and frowned at the next question.

Willow looked over Buffy's shoulder. "Shrubs? Why are they asking you about shrubs?"

"Maybe they want to see if she can build a shrubbery. Or cut down a forest wiiiiiith…a herring!" Xander chimed in, grinning in the face of their wry expressions.

Buffy scowled at the offending piece of paper. "Uhhh! I shouldn't even be bothering with this. It's all mootville for me. No matter what my aptitude test says, we already know my deal. Dates with the undead that feature pointy wooden things…"

"Then why are you even taking the test?" Willow asked.

"It's Principal Snyder's hoop of the week. He's not happy unless I'm jumping. Believe me, I would _not_ be here otherwise." Buffy made a short mental debate and checked off the "yes" box for shrubs. "This is so of the pointless. Unless Hell freezes over and every vamp in Sunnydale puts in for early retirement, I'd say my future is pretty much a non-issue. It's like I told my mom. She's the worker bee in the family. I'm just the Slayer soldier."

"But as a plus you get to gorge on all that delicious honey. Yum yum!" Xander said, smacking his lips and rubbing his stomach.

Buffy rolled her eyes as Willow tried to appease her. "B-by the way, how's your mom?"

"She's gonna be on an art-buying trip until Thursday. For the next three days, I have the house to myself."

"Cool!" Xander exclaimed. "We can come over to your house after hours and crash. Willow, you bring the nachos; I'll bring the dirty movies. We can have a slumber party."

"Slumber parties are for girls, Xander," Willow pointed out.

"Then you girls can have the slumber party and I'll stand watch for invading evil. You know, strictly in a bodyguard kind of way," Xander replied while waggling his eyebrows.

"Ignore him, Buffy. His aptitude test will probably have him working as a video clerk," Willow said, wrinkling her nose at the brunette boy.

"Hey! I resemble that remark."

Buffy grinned, her good spirits restored. "Sure, why not? Unless Giles uses my mom's absence to keep me training late."

Xander didn't see the problem. "So just don't tell him your mom's AWOL."

"That may not stop him, Xander. Now that he knows my mother's in on the Slayer secret, and I don't have to come up with bogus excuses as to why I'm late coming home, he has me training later and harder." Buffy sighed and rolled up her aptitude test. "And, on that note, I've got to check in at the library and see if that Watcher of mine has come up with any ancient prophecy about impending disaster." 

"That man has no concept of fun," Xander chided, tsk tsking over Giles's no-amusement attitude.

"Do they even know that word in England?" Buffy asked with a smirk.

Buffy was relieved to learn there was no sign of evil on the horizon—unless you counted Snyder. Giles commiserated with her about the whole Career Week problem but had no useful advice to give. So it was a truly crabby Slayer who marched through the Sunnydale cemeteries that night taking out her frustrations on the undead.

Buffy clambered up to her bedroom window, silent as a breeze, and paused to smile at the sight before her. Angel was there, padding through her room and taking note of her personal possessions. If she'd caught anybody else doing this, she would have been seriously pissed. But with Angel the actions were sweet…and kinda cute.

When he picked up and sniffed at her stuffed pig, she tossed her bag of weapons through the window onto the floor. Angel turned around, startled, still clutching the stuffed animal. "Buffy! You scared me."

"Now you know what it feels like, Stealth Guy." She smirked at his discomfiture, climbed the rest of the way inside and began pulling out her hair clips. "Just dropping by for a little quality time with Mr. Gordo?"

"Excuse me?" Angel asked, baffled by the name.

"The pig." The souled vampire realized he was still holding the toy and tossed it onto her chair, embarrassed. "So what's up?"

"Nothing."

She sighed at the obvious lie. "Only you don't have a nothing face. You have a something face. And you don't have to whisper. Mom's in L.A. 'till Thursday. Art buying or something."

"Then why'd you come in through the window?"

She glanced back at the open gap and grimaced. He had a point. "Habit."

The vampire smiled and spoke in a normal tone. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. There have been rumors that something bad is coming to town."

Buffy sagged, disappointed. She didn't know why she should be. In spite of the whole Billy mess, Angel was still keeping his distance romantic-wise. "There's a surprise. Angel comes with bad news."

"This is serious, Buffy."

"Isn't it always?" she groused. Just then the telephone rang and they both jumped. She signaled him to keep quiet and she picked up the phone. "Hello? Mom? Hi. I got in from patrolling just a little while ago. Yes, everything's fine." She shot a narrow stare at Angel, recalling his words from moments ago. "I finished my homework before I went out. I always do; I prefer not to be distracted by thoughts of conjugating French verbs while I'm pounding the baddies. How're things going on your end?"

She listened to the animated talk from her absent parent. "Really? See, you were needed. I don't think that's the kind of thing an assistant could have handled. What'll you be bringing back?" She screwed up her face. "Balinese masks. Ugh." There was another pause as her mother argued about the artwork. "I _know_ they're an important part of their culture but, honest to god, mom, they are some of the ugliest things I've ever seen. And you're talking to somebody who runs into ugly every night of the week and twice on Sundays."

There was some more talk and Buffy smiled. "Okay. Love you, too, mom. See you on Thursday." She hung up the phone and looked at it pensively for a few seconds.

Angel moved to sit beside her. "What is it, Buffy?"

"Nothing." Seeing his expression, she amended, "Guess I don't have a nothing face on either." She sighed. Uh, we're having this thing at school."

"Career Week?"

"How did you know?"

He smiled faintly, his normally somber expression lightening a bit. "I lurk."

Of course. How could she forget? "Well, then you know it's a whole week of 'what's my line' only I don't get to play. Sometimes I want…a normal life. Like I had before."

An unreadable look drifted into his dark eyes. "Before me."

"No, Angel." She touched his hand and wound her tanned fingers in his paler ones. "It's not you. You're the one freaky thing in my freaky world that still makes sense to me. I just get messed sometimes. I wish we could be regular kids." As he raised his eyebrows, she corrected, "Okay, then a regular kid and her cradle-robbing, creature-of-the night boyfriend.

Angel let out a laugh and Buffy was absurdly pleased that she could brighten his mood. He gestured at a picture on her dresser. "Was this part of your normal life?"

Buffy looked at the picture and laughed. "Oh my god. My Dorothy Hamill phase. My room in L.A. was pretty much a shrine." She recalled all the Hamill memorabilia she had collected: the pictures, programs, dolls. She'd even gotten the haircut. Yikes, she was glad Angel had never seen her like that. The picture of the five-year-old her on ice skates was bad enough. 

"When was the last time you put on your skates?" Angel asked her gently.

"About a couple of hundred demons ago." Some nights it felt like a couple of hundred years ago…

Angel shifted closer to her, breathing in her vanilla scent. "There's a rink out past Route 17, it's…closed on Tuesdays."

Surprised, she looked up at him. "Tomorrow's Tuesday."

He grinned in the face of her obvious delight. "I know."

She swallowed. All at once it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. "You want to take me ice skating? You and me. Is-is this a date?" Buffy wanted to be casual. But this was the first time Angel had ever suggested an activity with her that didn't have to do with great, big balls of doom headed her way and it was hard for her to remain calm.

"I-I guess it is." His eyes rested on her face, noticing her hazel eyes shining green even in the dimness of the room. "So…do you want to go?"

"Yeah!" Buffy paused and tried to regain her composure. "I-I mean, sure. This is at night, right? I'll make up some excuse for Giles. No, wait. I'll just tell him I have homework. And there's no nasty, demonic foulness, none that he knows about, anyway. He told me himself so there are no terrible monsters to hold me back. So, yeah, definitely can make it tomorrow."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow night." He moved towards the window and she grabbed at his arm.

"Hey, you can go out the front door, you know."

He smiled and pressed a kiss on her lips. "Habit."

Buffy practically floated to school the next day. She had a date! With Angel! Okay, maybe date was too strong a word for an impromptu decision to go ice-skating. But still—date with Angel! She couldn't wait to tell Willow.

It turned out Willow was too busy consoling Xander about his future to inquire about Angel. It seemed the godlike figures that decided future employment had pegged the brunette Slayerette as a prison guard. Buffy added her commiseration to Willow's while she mentally decided to keep quiet about her date. She didn't have to share _everything_ she did with her creature-of-the-night boyfriend with her friends, did she?

"Honestly, Buffy, when you look at me, do you think 'prison guard?' " Xander questioned, spreading his arms wide to indicate his less-than-butch frame.

She shook her head. "Um, crossing guard, maybe. But prison guard? Nope, not seeing that. But look on the bright side. At least you'll be on the right side of the bars." She giggled and Willow choked off a smirk.

Xander glared at them both. "Ha, ha, ha, ha! Laugh now, missy!" He pointed at Buffy. "They assigned you to the booth for law enforcement professionals."

"As in—police?" Buffy replied, stunned.

He nodded gleefully. "As in polyester, doughnuts and brutality."

Willow chirped, "But, hey, doughnuts!"

Buffy groaned in self-pity. "Terrific. First honey, now doughnuts. I'm going to be fat and covered in zits before I'm twenty."

Buffy saw Giles walking along with a tall stack of old books in his arms and gritted her teeth. She'd forgotten. Her Watcher was on this Tony Robbins hyper-efficiency kick. Even though he'd told her there was no major danger, he still expected her to check in every day after homeroom. "Guys, I'll have to meet my doom later. Watcherly duties beckon."

Giles was precariously balancing his stack of books on the table but they began to topple. Buffy caught them before they could fall and Giles smiled gratefully at her. "Buffy. Thank you. I've been indexing the Watcher diaries covering the last couple of centuries. You would be amazed at how numbingly pompous and long-winded some of these Watchers were."

She rolled her eyes. "Color _me_ stunned."

"So, uh, I trust last night's patrol was fruitful?"

[Not the patrol so such. But the aftermath with Angel? Yummers.] She said nothing of this to Giles only shrugged. "Found vamps. Staked vamps. No unusual beasties out there. It was kinda dullsville."

He frowned, pulling at his lower lip. "Quiet, did you say? That could be ominous."

She threw up her hands. "Only you could find the danger in quiet. Maybe that means we get a break for a change."

"Buffy, vampires and other evil creatures are a lot like animals. When something perilous looms on the horizon, they go to ground, either to gather their forces and wait for the proper moment to strike or else to leave town to avoid something more vicious than themselves. I'll have to research." He reached for a book at random and began gingerly turning the worn pages.

"Fine. But if you don't find anything of the definite then it's the usual for me tonight?" she asked hopefully.

"I suppose," Giles conceded with reluctance. 

"Great. I'll see you later then to get the Evil Watch forecast," Buffy said as she sauntered out of the library.

The man getting off the bus was an ugly sonofagun. He was tall and muscular in a seedy, biker kind of way. He wore steel-toed boots, a scar running across his left eye and an intimidating "don't screw with me" expression. The other passengers gave him a wide berth as they shuffled off past him. The mild-mannered gentleman with the briefcase didn't merit so much as a second look.

As the gentleman approached his target, he curled his lips upward automatically in the bland, unthreatening smile he had perfected for years to disarm his prey. He eyed the "Summers" nameplate hanging from the mailbox and then proceeded onwards to the house at 1628 Revello Drive. He knocked on the neighbor's door and waited to be admitted.

Buffy, Willow and Xander dawdled in the library while the blonde Slayer stole surreptitious glances at the clock. It was a couple of hours until nightfall but she dreaded hearing any news that might delay her meeting with Angel. 

"So, G-man, there is total absence of naughty wickedness afoot?"

"W-well, that would appear to be the case, Xander," Giles ventured. "And I've told you not to call me that."

The dark-haired teenager shook his head. "Shame on evil! It's definitely laying down on the job. Hey, Buffy, any news from tall, dark and cryptic about menacing badness on the prowl?"

"Huh?" Since she'd been thinking about Angel, Buffy started guiltily. "Um, no. Nothing from Angel. Hey, Giles, if there's no Big Bad around, can I get home? I want to put in some quality time on my homework." She got up and prepared to leave.

"Since when are you such a big fan of homework, Buff?" Willow called after her.

"Since I heard law enforcement's in my future. Maybe if I get higher grades I can avoid that fate." Buffy shivered dramatically and rushed out the library as quickly as she could without arousing suspicion. 

Giles raised his eyebrows at the other two. "Law enforcement?"

Buffy skated along the rink. God, this brought back such happy memories. For brief moments, the years fell away from her and she was little Buffy Summers, Dorothy Hamill wannabe again, practicing her axles. She tried to glide into a sit-spin but only ended up sliding clumsily into the sidewall. Suddenly, the oversized thug from the bus depot reached down and grabbed her around the neck, lifting her off the ice. He laid her down hard on the railing and began choking her. 

"Buffy!" Angel raced from the rinkside, his game face on, and launched himself at her assailant. He managed to knock the brute off her and proceeded to punch him in the face. To his shock, the man didn't appear at all fazed and returned his blow with a double-fisted punch to the stomach. 

The vampire traded blow for blow but the man—if man he was—was incredibly strong. He shrugged off the vampire's attacks, grabbed Angel by the throat and lifted him off the ice. Apparently he didn't know what the vampire was or didn't care that throttling wouldn't hurt him. Maybe he was simply trying to pull Angel's head off his shoulders. Judging by his tightening grip, Angel suspected he might actually succeed.

Buffy had regained her balance and skated towards the heavy-set man as fast as she could. Catching hold of the netting at the rinkside, she swung herself up and sliced across his throat with her skating blade. The thug released Angel and grabbed his own neck, unable to breathe past the blood filling his trachea. Staggering onto the ice, he collapsed on the chilly surface.

Buffy glared at the hairy corpse. Dammit! Couldn't she have just one normal evening out without getting attacked? "The Hellmouth presents: Dead Guys on Ice. Not exactly the evening we were aiming for."

Angel crouched over the dead man, trying to get some clue to his identity and why he'd wanted his Slayer dead. Lifting his hand to inspect a ring, he held it up to his eyes. "You're in danger. You know what the ring means?"

"I just killed a Super Bowl champ?" Buffy joked.

He frowned, annoyed that she could be so flippant. "I'm serious! You should go home and wait until you hear from me." He removed the ring and handed it to her.

Buffy opened her mouth to protest when she saw his face. There was a cut on his forehead thickly oozing blood over his ridges. "What about you? You're bleeding."

Angel shrank from her hand as she reached up to his wound. "Forget about me. This is bad, Buffy. We've got to get you outta here."

"No! Your eye!" When he stepped away again and shook her off, she frowned. "Don't be a baby. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"It's not that," he mumbled. "I…"

"What?" What was the big deal? She'd seen him hurt worse than this.

His yellow eyes shifted from hers. Shame was in his face and voice as he murmured, "You shouldn't have to touch me when I'm like this."

Then she realized. He was still wearing his game face. Usually he was quick to return to his human features around her. Fear and pain were making it difficult for him to resume his usual handsome visage. "Oh," she said quietly. She removed her glove and reached up to touch his brow with her tiny hand. "I didn't even notice."

He stared at her, astonished. She meant it. His hideous face didn't repel her. She moved to kiss him and he hesitantly responded. As the kiss deepened, Buffy rose on the tips of her skates to bring herself closer.

Unnoticed by either warrior, a Jamaican girl with long, dark hair watched them closely. She saw the corpse sprawled on the ice and the two lovers kissing, apparently oblivious to its presence, and her lips thinned. It was too dangerous to take both of them together if they were as deadly as they appeared. She would bide her time until she could deal with them individually.

Given the attack, Angel decided to cut the evening short and Buffy reluctantly agreed. She'd injured her knee when Conan the Barbarian had dropped her and wasn't in shape for more skating anyway. But she was damned if she was splitting town without learning more about what she was up against. She held an icepack to her knee while she sat on the library steps and looked on as Giles examined the ring under a desktop magnifying glass. "This guy was hard-core, Giles. And Angel was power-freaked by that ring."

Giles leaned back and held the small circlet up to the light. "I'm afraid he was not overreacting. This ring is worn only by members of the Order of Taraka. It's a society of deadly assassins dating back to King Solomon."

Xander looked at the glittering object critically. It didn't seem that special. And he couldn't be afraid of guys who wore jewelry. "Didn't they beat the Elks this year in the Sunnydale Adult Bowling League Championships?"

"Their credo is to sow discord and kill the unwary," Giles continued.

"Bowling is a vicious game," Xander chimed in again.

"That's enough, Xander!" Giles snapped. When the boy had the grace to look ashamed, he continued in a milder tone. "It's just not the time for jokes."

"These assassins—why are they after me?" Buffy asked in an effort to defuse the tension.

"W-well, you are the Slayer. And the services of assassins are usually available for a price. It may be that someone in Sunnydale has decided you are a great enough threat to hire them t-to…" He trailed away.

"So now I'm on somebody's hit list. Yay me. It's nice to be wanted," Buffy sighed. 

The phone in the library office rang and Giles raised his eyebrows. "Was anybody expecting a call?"

Buffy started as she remembered her promise, wincing as her weight was carelessly placed on her injured knee. "Eep. That would be Mom. She must have called the house and found me not there." She hobbled to the office and picked up the phone. "Mom? Hi. How are you?" Slight pause. "Yes, I know I wasn't home." Longer pause. "There was a good reason for it! This was slaying related." There was a longer pause during which Buffy waved at the others in a "not to worry" signal. 

"No, you don't need to come home. Giles, me and the others are handling it. It's just research with moldy old books at this point. Boring and snoozeville. It's way more exciting where you're at." She listened a little longer. "If I really need you, I'll call. I promise. Bye."

She hung up and came back, smiling in the face of their unspoken questions. "Wow, that was awkward. I need to get a cell phone or something."

"Buffy, why did you lie to your mom?" Willow asked. "I thought you were going to keep her in the know on all things slayie."

"I am, Wills. It's just that, well, before she left Mom was beating herself up because she was feeling mundo guilty over going to her job while her little girl was left at home to battle nasty evil. I told her I didn't want her to stop having a life on my account. One person trapped by the slayage in the Summers's household is enough." She slouched to the library table and slumped into a chair.

"I didn't know you were feeling trapped, Buffy," Giles replied, his eyes on his Slayer.

Buffy shrugged, determined to downplay her neediness. "No big, Giles. One girl in all the world blah blah blah—at least until I die again."

"Well, in the interests of keeping you alive, I really think you should leave town. The best thing you can do right now is to find a secure location, somewhere out of the way you can go until we decide on the best course of action."

"Okay, now you and Angel have both said to head for the hills. Are you saying I can't handle this, that I'm not strong enough to fight these people?" Buffy flexed her knee and scowled at her Watcher. Thanks to Slayer healing the soreness was vanishing and she leapt to her feet to demonstrate her combat readiness.

Giles spoke in even tones, trying to impress on the angry girl the perils of the situation. "The Order of Taraka are a breed apart, Buffy. U-unlike vampires they have no earthly desires but to collect their bounty. They find a target, and, uh… they eliminate it." He watched Buffy absorb this sobering news. "You can kill as many as you like. It won't make any difference. Where there's one, there will be another and another. They won't stop coming until the job is done. Each one of them works alone…his own way. Some are human, some a-are not. Y-you won't know who they are until they strike."

Willow had been turning things over in her mind. Now an idea had occurred to her. "Giles, I was thinking. If these guys are killers for hire, then won't taking out their employer sorta take them off the job? I mean, no buyer, no pay. No pay, no bounty. No bounty—"

"No bounty hunters. Good thinking, Willow," Buffy finished. She looked at Giles. "So the first thing we have to do is find out who's paying these guys and then take 'em out." She nodded sharply and walked out of the library. She didn't expect the others to be able to track down supernatural assassins or the kind of people who might hire them. But she knew who could help her.

The evening shadows lengthened as Norman Pfister watched the Summers's house through his binoculars. His expressionless face revealed nothing, not even impatience. His prey hadn't shown herself in hours but if there was one thing he knew how to do it was wait. This was her house he was watching. She was bound to return to it sooner or later. 

Lying lifeless at his feet was Mrs. Kalish, the Summers's unfortunate neighbor. The mealworms creeping over her corpse inched up his body and rapidly reformed themselves into his missing right arm. One crawled over his lower lip and he opened his mouth and swallowed it without thinking.

Buffy ran swiftly through the streets. Angel should have gotten home by now. She would tell him about the Order of Taraka and then he could go looking up his sources to see who was planning on making her into a Slayer trophy. That's what she told herself, anyway.

But she really just wanted to see Angel again. They'd gotten really intimate after their first—and what was shaping up to be their only—date and she wanted a repeat of Angel smoochies. Plus the news of her imminent death at the hands of a bunch of assassins had wigged her out more than she let on to the others. 

[Giles thinks I can't deal, that these guys are too tough for me. But if anybody could help me with them, it's Angel. And if he can't…] No, that thought really didn't bear thinking about. She only knew she couldn't leave another home and didn't want to without at least saying goodbye to him.

She stood before his apartment door and knocked. No answer. Would he be sleeping? No, it was still night. If he was home, he'd be awake. She hesitated and then twisted the knob hard, breaking the lock. She slowly entered, closing the door behind her. A modern desk covered with papers was set against the far wall with a dozen old pictures around it. An ivory statue was enclosed in a glass display case. She paused before it, thinking about how much her mother would have appreciated it.

Finally she found his bed, still unmade. She didn't want to stay here if Angel wasn't around. She should be hightailing it out of town just as he and Giles had warned. [I'll just wait here until he comes back. I won't sleep in his bed—or imagine him in bed beside me.]

But the minutes passed and there was no Angel. Too afraid to go home and promising herself it would be only for a little while, Buffy lay down on his bed and curled into herself. In spite of her intentions, within minutes, she was fast asleep.

Joyce Summers picked up the phone again. She'd let the phone at the house ring several times. She had called the library again and gotten vague noises from Mr. Giles that Buffy had stepped out to the bathroom. Another call fifteen minutes later had gotten no answer. The phone at Willow's house had a cheery message on the answering machine but no one picked up. Well, Willow's parents were often away on fact-finding missions. She recalled the redhead stammering something about her parents being social intellectuals of some sort or other. A surly man—Mr. Harris, she assumed—had picked up at Xander's house but the man had been ill tempered and curt to the point of hostility. She suspected he was drunk and wondered if Xander had to deal with that on a regular basis.

Something was wrong. She was sure of it, Buffy's earlier platitudes aside. Her daughter had broken the rules and she knew the consequences. She would wrap up business here as quickly as possible and then she was heading home first thing in the morning.

Angel knew what the ring meant. The Order of Taraka was in town and they had targeted Buffy, his Slayer. It was foolish to think of her in that proprietary way but he couldn't help it. She was his and he was prepared to cut a bloody swath through Sunnydale if that's what it took to protect her. And he knew just the place to start.

Willy sensed rather than saw the looming presence in the shadows. Sweeping up the dust on the floor, he yelled, "We're closed! Can't you read the sign?" Angel stepped into the light and the diminutive man's tone changed, becoming completely deferential. "Oh, uh…hey, Angel. I didn't recognize you in the dark there. What, uh… what can I do for you tonight?" 

"I need some information," Angel said softly. His manner was offhand as if he really wasn't interested in the answer but Willy knew better and his eyes began darting around the bar, looking for the nearest exit.

"Yeah? Man, that's too bad, 'cause…I'm stayin' away from that whole scene. I'm livin' right, Angel."

"Sure you are, Willy. And I'm taking up sunbathing." Noting the man's tense stature, he grabbed Willy and smacked his head down onto the bar. "Who sent them?"

Willy knew a play for innocence wouldn't really work but he tried it anyway. What was the point of letting Angel have it too easy? "Who sent who?"

"Wrong answer." He held his hand down on Willy's head and started pressing. "Was it the Anointed One?"

"Dammit! Look, Angel, I-I got some good pigs' blood in, good stuff. My fence said… Ah!" he squawked as the pressure increased.

Angel spoke in a bored tone. "You know, I'm a little rusty when it comes to killing humans. It could take awhile."

Willy was frantic. Was Angel out of the loop or did he not care what kind of force he was up against? "Look, this kid's got friends; he's got followers! I tell you, he'll draw and quarter me, man!"

"You've got bigger problems at the moment, Willy." Angel relaxed his hold, lifted Willy's head up and then slammed it down on the counter, harder this time. "Where can I find them?"

"Okay! Okay! Rumor's got it they're in some underground…"

He was interrupted as a foot came out of nowhere and gave the vampire restraining him a violent kick to the face. Angel fell onto the floor and looked up, dazed, to see a short, brown-skinned woman with grim determination written all over her facing him. She grabbed Willy's broom, broke off the handle and attacked him with the makeshift stake.

Willy bolted, not sticking around to see the outcome of the fight. He didn't know who his savior was and he wasn't staying in the line of fire to find out. [Looks like Angel's about to get staked. Too bad about that. Hope they don't make too much of a mess of the bar.] 

Inside the bar, the fight was fast and furious. Angel had never met a fighter like this girl. She blocked his every move and shrugged off his most vicious blows. She was as powerful as the man he'd faced in the ice rink.

She was a member of the Order. She had to be although why she was attacking him and not Buffy was a mystery. She followed up her blows to his gut with a shove into Willy's storeroom and he crashed through the cage door into a stack of empty water bottles. Before he could recover his balance, she swung the cage door shut and bolted it. Angel scrambled up and slammed against the door but she only laughed at his efforts.

"You think this is funny?" he snarled through his fangs.

"I tink it is funny now. Dat girl. De one I saw you wit before?"

Angel snarled again. "You stay away from her," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

The sound didn't appear to frighten her unduly. "I'm afraid ya are not in a position to treaten."

"When I get outta here I'll do more than threaten!" 

She squinted at the small window set high in the small enclosure. "Den I suggest ya move quickly." She gestured towards the window. "Eastern exposure. De sun will be comin' in a few hours." She moved back and padlocked the cage. "More dan enough time for me to find yer girlfriend."

Angel roared in rage and rattled the cage door with his hands as she left the building.

Giles was frantic with worry. He and Willow had stayed at the library all night, occasionally checking in with Xander. Mrs. Summers had called once or twice during the night; he didn't think she believed his stories about Buffy being in the loo. 

He held the phone, hoping that Xander would answer it and not his ponce of a father. The man did not take kindly to being woken so early and his language left a great deal to be desired. When Xander picked up, he was cheered to hear his voice. "Xander?" Short pause. "No, no, I-I haven't heard from Buffy yet. Look, I-I-I think you should go to her home and check on her." He paused again as Xander made some objection. "I-I don't know. Get Cordelia to drive you."

He hung up and rested his head in his hands unhappily. Where could Buffy be?

Cordelia couldn't believe that she had been shanghaied into driving Xander the lame-o over to check up on Buffy. Who did Buffy think she was, worrying her friends like this and making Cordelia Chase into a chauffeur? Driving around Alexander Harris, loser extraordinaire, and having to listen to his pathetic attempts at witty repartee were the crowning insults. What did he think he was going to do if Supergirl Buffy was in danger? Scream and run like a girl? Cordelia was a better fighter than he any day of the week.

Giving a deep sigh, Cordelia twirled her keys while Xander stumbled around on the upper floor of the Summers house looking for his fake blonde crush. Hearing a knock at the door, she smirked in triumph. That was probably Buffy now and wouldn't Xander look the big dork for worrying like this. She opened the door and saw a dweeby guy in cheap polyester holding up a large case. 

"Good day. I'm Norman Pfister with Blush Beautiful Skin Care and Cosmetics." He held up the case so Cordelia could see the words written on the side. "I was wondering if I might interest you in some free samples."

Her face lit up greedily at the magic word. "Free?" Well, she might as well get something out of this pointless trip. She shut the door behind him and began questioning her knight in shining polyester. "Do you have anything in raisin? I know you wouldn't think so, but I'm both a winter and a summer."

"It's $9.99, tax included," he told her with a smile, his eyes roaming around the living room.

She frowned at him. "I thought you said this was a free sample."

His eyes shot back to her and suddenly she noticed how he never appeared to blink. "Are there more ladies in the house?"

"Um, no. Do you have anything in the berry family?" Then she saw a mealworm inch out of his sleeve onto his hand. The man didn't seem to notice and she felt her skin crawl as more of the worms began appearing. 

Xander chose that moment to come down the stairs. "Hey, what's up?"

Cordelia pointed a shaking finger at the mealworms that were beginning to surface from all parts of Norman's suit. "Uh, uh, uh, he's, he's some sort of salesman and he was just leaving, right? Buh-bye! Thank you!"

Not seeing the worms, Xander grabbed Norman's arm and tried forcing him towards the door. "Okay, Mary Kay. Time to…" Then he noticed the squishiness of the man's arm under his own and looked down to see the worms under his grasping fingers. "ACK!!! Time to run!"

As Xander grabbed Cordelia and took off at a dead run, Norman's body dissolved into mass of mealworms, each unerringly headed towards the fleeing pair. Attempts to run through both outer doors met with defeat as Norman rapidly reconstituted himself at the exits. Xander changed tactics and pulled Cordelia towards the basement. Slamming it shut, the two of them stomped on the worms that tried slithering under the door crack.

Xander hurried to seal up the crack with duct tape. As Cordelia grabbed a broom to swat away the offending creepy crawlers from off his body, she wailed, "Why are these terrible things always happening to _me_?"

TBC


	5. Two Slayers, No Waiting

The Jamaican girl had followed the vampire and his girlfriend until the two had separated. The petite blond had gone into a public building and the girl had hesitated to follow. She didn't want any witnesses when she made her move. So she decided to follow the vampire instead. He had proven easy to track. Luckily for that bartender, she had intervened before the demon could do him serious harm.

This town was small but still contained plenty of places for vampires to hide. How would she go about tracking down the girl? Maybe she was still at that building she'd gone into earlier. The black girl ran as quickly as she could through the streets. She was unfamiliar with this town but her trainer had instilled her with an excellent sense of direction and she easily found her way back to the building just in time to witness the blonde girl's departure. She smiled as she shadowed her from a distance. 

Her target seemed unusually wary so she made sure to keep a good distance. She knew what powerful senses these creatures had; no sense alerting it to her presence before she was ready. She was baffled when she saw it enter a building instead of a crypt as she expected. But her trainer told her always to be prepared for the unexpected, especially when dealing with demons. Pausing for a brief moment to scan the perimeter, she cautiously entered the building.

Inside was another surprise. The place was neatly furnished without a speck of dust anywhere. This couple appeared to favor books, artwork and a small array of weapons. Not your typical monsters at all. Seeing a suitable piece of hardware, she smiled and soundlessly lifted her shiny prize off the wall.

She edged through the room, her senses reaching out for the blonde woman. There she was, sleeping on the bed. Strange—a few hours remained until sunrise. She would have expected the creature to be still on the prowl. Mentally, she shrugged off the puzzle. Maybe this one had learned to get in early. Steeling herself, she lunged towards the figure on the bed, bringing down her weapon. 

Buffy heard the noise before she was fully awake. It was a stealthy step, all right, very much like Angel's careful tread. Wait, she wouldn't have heard Angel at all; throughout the decades, he had perfected the art of silent stalking. At this thought, her eyes snapped open even as she tumbled out of the way of the descending blade. The hatchet whistled down and embedded itself in the pillow where her head had been. Buffy quickly did a flip to avoid further blows. "You must be number two!"

Number two? Oh, she was referring to the man she'd killed who had attacked her previously. No doubt she thought to make _her_ the second victim. The Jamaican's eyes narrowed and she hefted her weapon to swing at the blond again. Only this time the creature grabbed the bed curtain and dragged it over her head, effectively blinding her. The Jamaican girl managed to disentangle herself, all the while thanking her gods her trainer wasn't around to see her fumbling like this.

"Thanks for the wakeup, but I'll stick with my clock radio," the blond chirped and the black girl gritted her teeth. Did she think this was some sort of joke? Her boyfriend had taken this far more seriously. When she finally managed to bring the woman onto the floor, the blond grinned up at her. "Come on, don't make me do the chick fight thing."

Now that was just baffling. "Chick fight?" 

"You know." The blond immediately demonstrated by digging her nails into her hand. The black girl grunted in pain and was unprepared when the blond grabbed her arm and rolled out of the way. After the yellow-haired girl flipped to her feet, she blocked a series of kicks and managed to rebound immediately from her attack. 

She was a capable fighter, far more so than her vampire boyfriend. But the Jamaican wondered why she hadn't shifted into her true face. Where were the fangs and furrowed brow? "Who are you?" she demanded.

The blond stared at her. "Who am I? You attacked me! Who the hell are you?"

The black girl tilted her chin defiantly. "I am Kendra! De Vampire Slayer!"

Buffy looked at her in utter disbelief. "Okay, one more time. You're the who?!"

The other girl watched her carefully, waiting for a lapse in the blond's concentration. "I'm de Slayer." The creature didn't appear afraid of her, only disbelieving. Well, many vampires were ignorant of Slayers; perhaps it was to be expected. What she didn't expect was what the demon said next.

"Nice cover story. But here's a tip: you might wanna try it on someone who's not the real Slayer. _I'm_ the damn Slayer!"

What kind of trick was this? Her Watcher Zabuto had told her vampires were wily. But this one was either very creative or merely insane. "Nonsense! Dere is but one and I am she."

Buffy shook her head. There was something really bizarre going on here. The other girl appeared absolutely certain of her ground. If she was a member of the Order, she was choosing a truly weird psyche-out. "Okay, a scenario. You back off, I'll back off, but you promise not to go all wiggy until we can go to my Watcher and figure this out."

Watcher? This creature knew about Watchers? But what was that word she used? "Wiggy?"

Didn't this girl speak English? Well, yeah, she spoke it all right but in a formal way that sounded a lot like Giles. [I am she? Yeah, sounds like what Giles would say.] "You know. No kick-o, no fight-o?"

Kendra thought this over for a moment and then relaxed her stance although she never relaxed her vigilance. If this creature wanted to lead her into a trap, she would be ready. But, if she really was a Slayer, then something was seriously out of balance. She was going to have to talk to Mr. Zabuto when she got the chance.

Giles was relieved to see Buffy alive and well, although she appeared no less tense than when he'd seen her last night. But he was stunned when she revealed the identity of the young woman with her. "And your Watcher is, i-is Sam Zabuto, you say?"

"Yes, sir." This Mr. Giles was human and seemed to be a Watcher. He was quiet, straightforward, mature and, judging by the number of books in different languages lying nearby, highly intelligent. Maybe he could clear up the mystery. 

"And you are called…?" Giles probed.

"I am de Vampire Slayer." 

Buffy interrupted impatiently. "We got that part, hon. He means your name."

"Oh. Dey call me Kendra. I have no last name, sir." She continued to address Mr. Giles without looking at the other girl. The silly blond appeared to be a complete fool by comparison to her Watcher. What was her name? Buffy? What kind of nonsensical name was that for a serious Slayer to sport?

Buffy appeared to be equally unimpressed with _her_ name. "Can you say 'stuck in the 80s?' " 

Willow came bouncing into the library. "Hey! Buffy, you're okay! We were so worried last night—"

Kendra sprang around Buffy and glared at the red-haired intruder. "Identity yourself!" 

The harsh greeting stunned Willow as Buffy attempted to pull Kendra back from the startled redhead. "Back off, pink ranger! This is my friend."

"Friend?" Kendra looked from her to Willow. Slayers weren't supposed to have friends. This girl was even more disturbed than Kendra had originally supposed.

Buffy couldn't understand why Kendra looked so baffled. Didn't they understand the concept of friends where she came from? "Yeah. Friend. As in person you hang with? Amigo?"

Kendra spoke to Mr. Giles again. Clearly she was going to get nowhere with this Buffy person. "She has friends? And you permit dis? But a Slayer must work in secret in order to maintain security."

Giles stammered in the face of the girl's clear disapproval. Now that he considered it, Buffy's manner of handling her sacred birthright did leave a bit to be desired. Nevertheless he felt the urge to defend her behavior and, by extension, his methods as her Watcher. "Of course, uh, but, um, with Buffy, however, i-it's, um, some flexibility is required."

Kendra didn't understand this at all. Didn't this Watcher have any control over his Slayer? "Why?"

Willow waved her hand to indicate she was still in the room. "Hi, guys. W-what's going on?"

Buffy collapsed into a seat. "Apparently there's been a really big mix-up. _She_ thinks she's a Slayer." 

Kendra spoke to the redhead this time. "I _am_ de Slayer. My Watcher sent me here. Ask your Mr. Giles." Kendra was getting tired of the other Slayer's disbelieving, haughty demeanor. This Buffy appeared willful, stubborn and stupid. She had friends? What was her Watcher doing, encouraging her in this lapse of proper Slayer etiquette?

Willow's green eyes went wide as she looked at the Jamaican girl more closely. "Is that even possible? I mean, t-two Slayers at the same time?"

Giles was busily polishing his glasses as he squinted at the irritated Kendra. "Not to my knowledge. Um, t-the new Slayer is only called after the previous Slayer has died." He straightened as he finally understood. "Oh, good Lord! You were dead, Buffy."

"I was only gone for a minute! That doesn't count—does it?" Buffy looked at Giles uncertainly.

"Clearly, it doesn't matter how long you were gone. You were physically dead thus causing the activation of the next Slayer." He nodded towards Kendra.

This was more than Kendra could handle although she did her best to remain calm. Mr. Zabuto wouldn't have wanted her to fly off the handle as she did in her early days of training. She spoke slowly—again, however, not to Buffy. "She died?" 

"Just a little," Buffy retorted heatedly.

"She drowned but she was revived. By another of her friends," he added meaningfully.

"So there really are two of them!" Willow squealed.

"It would seem so. This is completely unprecedented! I'm quite flummoxed." Giles resumed polishing his lenses again.

"What's the flum? It's a mistake; she isn't supposed to be here." Buffy turned to Kendra. "Look, no offense. I really don't mean this personally. But I'm not dead and, frankly, having you around creeps me out just a little bit."

Kendra was bored with Buffy's mood swings and rather outraged that the other girl thought she could dismiss her so easily. "I cannot just leave. I was sent here for a reason. Mr. Zabuto said dat dark forces were converging in Sunnydale. His sources report de Order of Taraka was headed dis way."

"Day late and a dollar short. We knew that already and we are so on it. So you can go now. Bye bye!" Buffy said brightly. 

"No, Buffy. Kendra can be useful. We can always use another supernatural fighter on our side and Kendra would be more than up to the task if Sam Zabuto is her Watcher." Kendra nodded her head slightly in acceptance of the compliment to herself and her Watcher.

Buffy was offended. Her Watcher seemed to be siding with this girl. Did he forget that _she_ was his Slayer? "Yeah? Well, if she's so great, why did she attack me?"

Kendra looked slightly embarrassed. "I tought ya were a vampire."

"Oh, a swing and a miss for the rookie." Buffy snorted and pointedly moved from Kendra to sit beside Willow.

The Jamaican girl tried to defend herself. "I had good reason to tink ya were. Did I not see ya kissin' a vampire?"

Willow was quick to spring to Buffy's defense. "Buffy would never do that!" Then she recalled the souled vampire. "Except that sometimes you do that. But only with Angel!" she added quickly.

The older woman who had quietly appeared with Xander in tow stared at her daughter's back. "What?!"

Buffy spun around to face an irate, drenched Joyce Summers.

Joyce tried to justify her actions as she drove towards Sunnydale as fast as the speed limit would allow. Buffy wasn't home. The phone at the library remained unanswered. She wondered if it was off the hook or whether Mr. Giles was ducking her calls. She just knew all was not well with her daughter and she was damned if she was going to remain sedately in Los Angeles while Buffy was in trouble.

She recalled the reputation of the blonde vampire she had decapitated and shuddered. She pressed her foot down a little harder on the accelerator. 

When she got to her house, it appeared quiet enough. She turned the key in the lock and opened the door. "Hello? Buffy? Are you home?" There was no answer. But it was a school day. Maybe Buffy had come home and left again. [Without checking the messages? Without calling me back?] She heard voices coming from the basement and stepped towards the downstairs door. 

She pulled and pounded at the door when it proved unyielding. "Hello? Who's down there?" She heard a muffled voice and frowned. That sounded like—Xander Harris? What was he doing in her basement? The next moment, footsteps came pounding up the stairs and she backed away as the door swung open. 

Cordelia Chase threw herself at the woman, embracing her, with Xander at her back. "Oh, thank god! Somebody's here! I thought I was going to die with the King of the Losers!" She pulled back from the older woman and looked around wildly. "Is he gone?"

"Is who gone?" Then the mass of mealworms coating the ceiling descended on the two women and both of them let out piercing shrieks as they batted at the parasites trying to inch into their noses and mouths.

"Get into the front yard!" Xander shouted. Both women rushed out of the house and stood jumping around as he switched on the hose and sprayed them liberally with the gushing water. 

Mrs. Summers looked at the pair and gasped for breath. The worms were wriggling away into the ground and evading all attempts by Cordelia Chase to stomp them to death. "Either of you two care to tell me what the hell those, those, _things_ were?" she exclaimed as she pointed a shaking finger at the disappearing invertebrates.

"No time, Mrs. S. We've got to get to the library and tell Giles." He ran towards Cordelia's car and impatiently gestured for the two women to get inside.

Mrs. Summers remained unmoving. "Tell Giles what? We've got the whole drive ahead of us so I'd appreciate it if you told me what was going on."

"Same here, Harris. You did not tell me that fighting bugmen and getting hosed down like a pig at a fair was going to be part of this gig. And I'm not getting the leather interior of my car all wet since Daddy just had it detailed!" Cordelia huffed as she stomped her foot.

"Then you're coming to school with us," Joyce said as she opened her car door.

The cheerleader waved her hands frantically all over her body. "No way! I'm not showing up at school looking like a drowned rat!"

"You were nearly eaten by bugs and you're worried about your rep as a whorishly dressed Barbie doll?" Xander asked snidely.

"What does that make you, Gay Ken? No, wait. Gay Ken had a fashion sense," Cordelia spat.

Mrs. Summers pressed down on the horn, startling the bickering pair. "All right, that's enough!" She directed a basilisk stare at the two of them. "I don't know what you two went through in my house but, if it was anything like what just happened, it must have been pretty horrifying. However, let me remind you that my daughter is still missing and most likely the one in real danger. Now, if either of you care enough to stop arguing like a pair of children, I'd like to get a move on. Xander, you're filling me in on the drive to the school." She opened the car door and waited for him to get inside.

Xander decided she was right and resolved to ignore the brunette cheerleader. God, he was glad Mrs. Summers had come back when she had. If he'd been left any longer with Cordelia, he would have strangled her. "Um, Mrs. Summers. I don't think I know enough of the backstory—"

"I'm thinking you know plenty, Alexander Harris," Joyce replied in a steely tone. "So I suggest you spill it before I decide to cross you off the list of my daughter's friends."

Xander gulped as he looked into that unyielding gaze. Now he knew where Buffy got her tough gal streak. "W-well, it's got something to do with this Order of Teriyaki…"

Xander had proven to be very forthcoming, the story spilling from him as they raced through the streets. In the end they had taken her car in an effort to spare Cordelia's leather ride. Mrs. Summers clenched her jaw. "So Mr. Giles lied to me."

"No, no! He didn't lie!"

"He told me Buffy was in the bathroom when I called," she said accusingly.

"Well, she could have been. She didn't say where she was going when she left us," Xander babbled in an effort to provide damage control.

She glared at him. "But that was last night! Didn't any of you think to call me?"

"Buffy d-didn't want to worry you, Mrs. Summers. She doesn't want you getting all wiggy every time she goes to fight evil," Xander concluded lamely.

"But I'm already 'wiggy' as you put it. I get that way every time she leaves the house at night. Keeping me ignorant isn't going to help, is it? I need to know these things if I'm going to help Buffy and myself." She looked beseechingly at Xander. "She's your friend. But Buffy's my daughter. Don't you see how important it is to me to know what's happening?"

Xander couldn't think of anything to say to that. Ignorance may have been bliss in other places. But on the Hellmouth it could get you killed. Maybe it was a good idea to keep Mrs. Summers in the loop. It just wasn't his place to tell if Buffy didn't want to.

And that was where things stood when Joyce walked in unnoticed in time to hear that her daughter's boyfriend was a vampire.

"What?!" She stared at Buffy taking no heed of the other occupants of the room for the moment. "You were kissing Angel? And Angel's a vampire?"

"Mom? When did you get back?" She saw the sodden condition of her mother's clothes. "And why are you wet?" Xander started and rushed to get towels from Giles's room. 

"Mom?" Kendra stared at the woman in the light coat and then glanced at the library windows. It hadn't been raining but the woman looked as if she'd been in a shower.

Mrs. Summers advanced, her eyes never leaving her uneasy daughter. "You were supposed to be home last night and you weren't. I found Xander and Cordelia hiding in the basement instead."

"You guys were still there? I thought you went off to find Buffy earlier. What kept you so long?" Willow wondered what could have kept her best friend trapped so long with their mortal enemy.

"We got trapped by a reject from a Spiderman comic. Some guy made entirely out of bugs. Gah!" Xander twitched his shoulders in a deep shudder to indicate just how gruesome the whole incident had been.

"Bugs, did you say?" Giles murmured, moving instinctively towards his books.

"Mr. Giles, please," Joyce interrupted. She pointed at her daughter. "You lied to me, young lady."

Kendra was too confused by all the people coming in. This was why Slayers were supposed to remain a secret. They were not meant to lead such complicated lives. "Don' tell me. Yer mother knows yer a Slayer, too?"

For the first time since her arrival, Joyce focused on the stranger in their midst. "Buffy, who is this girl?" Joyce asked. "And how does she know about the slaying?"

Buffy waved in Kendra's direction. "Mom, meet Kendra. She's a vampire Slayer, too. Kendra, this is my mother."

"How do ya do, Mrs. Summers?" Kendra said formally.

Joyce replied automatically. "How do you…" Then she did a double take. "Wait a minute. _She's_ a Slayer?" She looked at Giles accusingly. "What about that 'one girl in all the world' crap you were feeding me?"

Giles was defensive as he tried to explain. "Mrs. Summers, I'm as taken aback by this as you are. This has never happened in the history of the Watchers Council. We're still attempting to sort out the situation."

"How did yer mother learn yer a Slayer?" Kendra asked Buffy. "Why would ya willingly bring yer parent into this world of danger and darkness?"

"Well, it's kind of a funny story. We were attending Parent/Teacher night here at the school and Mrs. Summers killed a vampire named Spike…" Xander trailed off when he noticed several pained stares coming his way. "Okay, story for another day."

"Spike? Also known as William de Bloody? I read about him in my studies. He murdered two of our kind. And _you_ killed him?" She raised her eyebrows as she scanned Mrs. Summers more closely.

"Trust me. I was just as surprised as you when I found out who he was. But about Angel—" Joyce continued.

Now Kendra was on surer ground. "Angel. You mean Angelus? I read about him, too. He's one of de Order of Aurelius and a particularly nasty demon. He makes William de Bloody look like a choir boy." 

"That was Angelus. This is Angel. He has a soul and he's good now," Buffy corrected.

"A soul?" Kendra and Mrs. Summers chorused. "Is that why you were kissin' him?" Kendra asked.

"Kissing him. You see, this is the part of the conversation that's giving me trouble, Buffy. We're having a conversation about vampires that you're supposed to be killing and you're kissing one of them instead—and it's this Angel whom you told me you were absolutely NOT seeing." Joyce folded her arms and sat down on one of the library seats, oblivious to the squelching noises from her coat.

"I'm not seeing him. Not in the dating way because he and I can't date what with the whole undead issue. It's really complicated," Buffy ended feebly.

"I can imagine," Joyce replied grimly.

"But everything else I told you about him is true, Mom! He's good. He got his soul back and he helps me fight other vampires and demons! He's never hurt me and he killed Darla, that vampire who attacked you last year! Remember her?" Buffy realized she was grasping at straws but she thought that would prove to be a trump card at least.

"Darla? That friend of yours from school? She didn't attack me. I tripped and fell on a barbecue fork." 

Buffy sighed. "No, Mom. That was when you were in your denial phase. Darla was a vampire. You let her into the house. She attacked you. Angel stopped her before she could drain you completely. Then Angel killed her to protect me. Got it?"

"Oh." Her brows wrinkled as she tried to recall the exact sequence of events that had led to her hospitalization last year. Now that she thought about it, she remembered they didn't have a barbecue fork. There was a dim recollection of a ridged face, yellow eyes leaping at her… Goodness, had that been Darla? And Angel had saved her as long ago as that. She refocused on her daughter's anxious face. "So Angel really is a good guy?"

"That he is. Except that we don't like him," Xander amended.

"Yeah. He got his soul back. It was a whole gypsy curse thing. T-that's what he says, anyway," Willow trailed off as Kendra directed an incredulous stare at her.

"I don't know about dis soul business," Kendra threw in. "But he certainly appeared to be a vicious monster when I…" She stopped and Buffy turned a white, angry face towards her.

"When you what?" She stood up and stalked towards the Jamaican. "What did you do to him?

"I…" Kendra was determined not to show fear in front of this skinny twig of a girl. But Buffy's expression reminded her of nature films showing lions advancing on helpless prey. This girl meant to hurt her and all over a cruel, inhuman monster.

"What did you do?!" Buffy yelled.

Kendra spoke quietly. She wasn't obligated to defend her actions to this girl. But if she wanted an explanation she wasn't going to back off from giving one. "I saw him attackin' a human, de owner of dis bar. I attacked him and we fought. I managed to lock him in a cage in dat bar. I didn't stake him because I wanted him to tell me where I could find you. He was still in one piece when I left him."

"Let's hope for your sake he still is," Buffy replied grimly. Without waiting for anybody else, she stalked towards the library doors and flung them open as she left. Kendra and Mrs. Summers looked at each other uncertainly before following her.

Xander shook his head and turned towards the bemused Watcher. "And while the ladies are out playing Deadboy rescue, what say we do a little research on bug monsters?"

Joyce Summers drove quickly through the streets as she followed Kendra's terse instructions. Buffy hadn't wanted to sit beside her mother but she could feel the tension radiating from the two girls in the backseat. Dodging the issue of Angel for the moment, she decided to draw out Kendra a little. "So…you're a Slayer," she ventured.

"Dat's right, ma'am. My Watcher is Mr. Sam Zabuto." Kendra stated this calmly as if Joyce should know the man in question.

"Well, have you been a Slayer long?" she continued.

"Most of me life. My parents gave me to my Watcher when I was very young."

"Your parents gave you up?" Joyce was shocked to hear this. "How could they do that? How could they just turn you over to a stranger?"

"Dey understood dat being a Slayer was more important. Dat's how seriously de calling is taken by my people. My modder and fadder gave me to my Watcher because dey believed dat dey were doing de right ting for me and for de world." She caught Joyce's pitying look. "Please, I don't feel sorry for meself. Why should you?"

Joyce couldn't believe the girl could be so detached about it. "I-I don't know. I…I guess it sounds very lonely. Don't you miss your parents?"

Kendra shrugged off the question. "I don't remember dem. I've seen pictures." She quickly added, "Friends, family, school, emotional attachments…I was taught by my Watcher dey were distractions, dat dey would make me lose focus when I'm fightin'."

Buffy spoke up for the first time. "No way! My emotions give me power. They're total assets!"

Kendra allowed herself a small look of disdain. "Like yer emotions for dis Angelus? De Watchers diaries I've read show him to be a complete monster and yer ignorin' de danger yer in to fly to his rescue."

"He's not like that now," Buffy asserted.

Kendra continued as if she hadn't spoken. "He was known as de Scourge of Europe. He was famous for murders of entire families, emotional and physical torturin' of his victims, stalkin' and drivin' dem insane, turnin' people and settin' dem on der loved ones…"

"He has a soul! He helps people now. Don't you get that?" Buffy shouted. She had seen her mother's face in the rearview mirror getting more and more horrified at what she was hearing. She had to provide damage control before Kendra poisoned her mother's mind against Angel completely.

Kendra flung her an incredulous look. "So what? He's still a vampire. Soul or no soul, we're sworn to destroy his kind not kiss dem."

"Buffy, I still can't believe you knew this Angel was a vampire—and you never told me," Joyce accused.

"Mom, you were still thrown from the newsflash that I was a Slayer. Telling you that one of the people fighting by my side was a vampire—how was I supposed to break that exactly? 'Hi, mom. I'm a Slayer. This is Xander, Willow, my Watcher Mr. Giles and Angel and oh, Angel just happens to be a vamp.' I really didn't see that conversation happening."

"But I told you to tell me everything. You've been lying to me for over two years and you promised you wouldn't do that any more," Joyce pointed out angrily.

"I know. And I didn't lie to you about Angel. I-I just…didn't tell you everything," Buffy mumbled. 

Kendra tuned them out. This was a family dispute and her training told her it wasn't important. She saw the bar she'd been to last night. "We have arrived, Mrs. Summers. Dis is de place."

The light from the window hadn't reached Angel yet but it might as well have. The sunlight was weakening him and his body had already taken a pounding from that aggressive female who'd attacked him. Shouting hadn't brought any help and whom did he expect to be passing by a bar at this time of day anyway?

The cage door swung open but he was too enervated to take advantage of the sudden reprieve. "Hey, Angel, buddy. How ya doin'?" Willy called out cheerfully. "Hey, no hard feelings 'bout last night. In fact, no feelings at all. This is strictly business, you understand?"

He dragged the vampire out by his feet, grunting at his heavy weight. "Boy, I hope these guys are paying me enough for the trouble of totin' your carcass around. You ought to think about eatin' less. They've got lean pigs' blood nowadays, you know? For the vampire on a diet…"

Angel closed his eyes and ears against Willy's non-stop chatter and tried to rally his strength. But he hadn't fed last night and the sunlight had taken its toll. Willy dropped Angel into the sewer waters below the bar and frowned unhappily as he plopped down beside him. He was going to have to buy a new pair of sneakers. Then he looked up as two vampires appeared in the darkness. 

"This him?" One of them grunted, peering at the vampire lying in the slimy water.

"Sure. That's Angel—us. Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. Just like I promised, all wrapped up in a bow," Willy jabbered.

"I wasn't talking to you, filth," the vampire replied. He gestured to the other vampire—by the pronounced ridges a much older bloodsucker. The other demon carefully looked Angel's features over and grinned.

"Yeah. That's the asshole who attacked us at the Sunset Club, the one who said he was part of the Master's line. This bastard took out most of my boys that night. I think we should just stake him right now."

The first vampire shoved him back roughly. "You want to go back and explain why we didn't bring Angelus? The boy says he wants to talk to him so we're bringing him." The second vamp grumbled but he knelt and lifted Angel by his shoulders.

Willy waved his hands. "Hey, hey, wait a minute! I believe there was some mention of a finder's fee? H-how's 'bout somethin' for the effort?"

The first vampire looked at him disdainfully and peeled off a few hundred-dollar bills, crumpling them and dropping them into the water. "Oops. Sorry about that."

Willy gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile. Typical vampires. Always throwing their weight around to prove they were big shots and not just transformed weak-kneed humans. He scooped up the floating paper, shaking the water droplets off the bills. Still, all this money would ease the pain of his wounded pride.

He climbed out of the sewers and lowered the trap door. Then he looked up to encounter the two Summers women. "Uh, what can I do for you people? We're closed for business. Come back in a few hours." He peered at Buffy. "Say, aren't you underage?" 

Buffy's smile was as chilly as the space he just left. "Hello. We're looking for a certain vampire. Really tall, dark hair and eyes. Haven't seen him around, have you?"

"Vampires? Wh-what're you talkin' about? You got the DTs or somethin'?" Willy edged towards the trapdoor. 

But Kendra's foot came down on it hard as she glared at him. "De lady just asked ya a question."

He hesitated, swinging his head back and forth between Buffy and Kendra. Buffy grabbed his head and whacked it into the counter. "Ow! Geez! What is it with you people and the skull-crushing?" he whined.

"You mean like what de vampire was givin' you when I attacked him?" Kendra queried.

"Attacked…? Oh, that was _you_? Hey, I left so fast I didn't see your face. Thanks for the save, by the way. OW!" He yelled again when Buffy smacked his head downwards once more.

"Angel was here. But he's not here now. Where is he?" Buffy asked.

"I'm not denyin' the big guy was here. But he took off! That's all I know, I swear!"

"Uh huh. Took off in broad daylight? Try pulling the other one," Buffy retorted.

Willy thought quickly. The two broads knew Angel had been here. There was no point in saying otherwise. But maybe he could mislead them a little. "He went through the sewers, naturally—through the trap door, as a matter of fact. But I don't know where he went after that."

"How'd he get out of de cage? He was securely locked in when I left him and he couldn't get out witout help." Kendra watched his face closely. This one reminded her of a weasel. He reeked of deceit. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to defend him last night.

Willy's grin was disarming and shifty in almost equal measure. "I came back in and he was still there. So I let him out."

"Ya let him out after he'd been pummeling ya? Yer a rotten liar. He's dirty, Buffy. I can smell it. Angelus was after information from dis one. He wouldn't simply take off unless he had it," Kendra insisted.

Joyce spoke up for the first time. "I'm inclined to agree." Reaching gingerly into Willy's pocket, she pulled out the wet, crumpled bills. "Quite a lot of money to have on hand when the bar's still closed, wouldn't you agree, Buffy?" She waved the money at her daughter and Buffy's eyes narrowed as she saw the pictures of Ben Franklin on each of them.

"Ooh. I think we're looking at a payoff," Buffy purred.

"That's right! I gave Angel the info he was lookin' for and he paid me. I was gonna do it anyway when Wonder Woman here jumped in."

"If you were going to take his money, why was he beating you up?" Joyce asked.

Seeing that Buffy had eased up on her grip, Willy lifted his head and flashed the older woman an ingratiating grin. "Well, that's just the way things work between us stoolies and the folks we deal with. Can't give the info up too quickly otherwise they think it's no good. So I pretend not to know nothin', Angel smacks me around a bit, then I cough up the goods and he gives me the dough. It's all part of the game, ladies."

"Okay. Here's _my_ part of the game." Buffy grabbed his head and slammed it down on the counter again. "You tell us what you told Angel. Better yet, you take us to where he went."

"What for? What do I get out of it?" Willy blustered. These girls seemed human and he was willing to bet they weren't going to kill him. They could beat him up but that would take time and he was sure Angel didn't have it to spare.

"You get your money back," Joyce answered in dulcet tones, tucking the greenbacks into her coat.

"Now, hang on a minute! That money's mine! I got roughed up for it fair and square!" Willy protested.

Buffy ignored him as she yanked up the sewer door, his arm firmly grasped in her hand. She stopped when she saw that Kendra was headed towards the door. "Where are you going?"

"Ya wanted to know what had happened to de vampire. We found out. Now we should report back to yer Watcher."

"Wait! Angel could be in serious trouble. I thought you were here to help."

Kendra's eyebrows shot up. "Help a vampire? Not likely. He deserves to die."

"All right! What part of his being good did you miss? He's working on the side of the angels, no pun intended."

"He's a vampire!" Kendra insisted. "Good or no, his existence is not as important as human lives. Two of yer friends were nearly worm food because dis order of assassins is after ya and all ya can tink about is yer undead boyfriend." She stepped closer to Buffy, paying no attention to her curious mother or the suffering bartender. "Ya let yer emotions cloud yer judgment. No wonder ya died," she sniffed contemptuously.

"You WHAT?!" Joyce cried out in shock.

Kendra blinked at her startled tone and Buffy cringed. Her grip loosened almost enough for Willy to wriggle free. But when he tried to escape, Buffy tightened her hold. "Look, you ladies obviously have a lot you need to talk about. Why don't you come back later…" Without looking at him, Buffy slammed him into the counter and he gritted his teeth against the pain. "Or you can just duke it out over my unconscious body."

"Mom, I was going to tell you…"

"When, Buffy? When were you going to tell me? You died? When was this?" Joyce demanded.

"Mom, can we please not go into this now?" Buffy pleaded. "I know there are some things we need to discuss—lots of things. But Angel's in danger and now is not the time for a mother-daughter chat. Please. I promise I'll tell you everything you need to know. But right now, my—Angel is in trouble."

She looked at Kendra who had retreated to lean pointedly against the front door. "I'm going after him. With or without you." She pulled Willy with her and saw her mother pausing indecisively. "Mom, you should go with Kendra. I can't worry about you and handling the slippery eel here."

Joyce rubbed her forehead again as she tried to sort out all the information coming her way. "Buffy, I-I think she's right."

"What?" How could her mother say that after everything she'd told her? "Mom, Angel's—"

"—In trouble. I get that. I also got from the conversation with this young lady in the car that he's also one of the most vicious creatures ever to walk the face of the earth. That he's ruthless, pitiless…"

"_Before_ he got his soul," Buffy stressed.

"And does this soul mean he's no longer a vampire?" She noted her daughter's unhappy silence. "He still is and, if so, then I have to agree with Kendra. He's not as important as your friends. He's expendable, Buffy."

"No, Mom! Please, you can't say that…and I don't have time to debate this." She glanced fearfully at the light streaming through the windows. She didn't know where Angel was but she was betting wherever he'd gone couldn't have been good for his health. She didn't trust this Willy guy one bit and every precious second they wasted was certain to mean trouble for her Angel. 

Kendra watched the two of them indecisively. Every instinct was screaming at her to ignore this Angelus's plight and run to her Watcher. But her Watcher wasn't here. Mr. Giles was the resident Watcher and he seemed to trust Buffy's methods. Impulsively, she stepped forward and drew out a sharpened piece of wood from her back pocket. "Buffy, here. Take dis. Dis is my lucky stake. I call him Mr. Pointy."

Buffy's eyebrows flew up as she struggled to choke back laughter. "You have a lucky stake? And you named him _Mr. Pointy?_"

Kendra frowned and drew the object back. "If ya don't want it…"

"No, that's okay. I'll take it. And…thanks." She wrestled the protesting bartender into the sewer as her mother watched anxiously from above.

Kendra opened the bar door, her posture once more brisk and businesslike. "Mrs. Summers, ya should come wit me. Yer daughter shouldn't have to worry about ya and dat bartender. Let's get back to Mr. Giles and report to him." 

Joyce wavered. Part of her wanted to accompany her daughter. But she recalled what had happened the last time she had tackled with vampires. The weapon had jammed and the near-brush with death had frightened her badly. Her courage wasn't what it had been and she hadn't thought to take a weapon with her when she left the library; she'd been too intent on talking to her daughter. Now Buffy was evidently determined to help this Angel no matter what she had to say about it. She sighed and turned back to Kendra. "I don't suppose you know how to drive."

"No. I'm underage."

"Swell. Then I'm driving back to Mr. Giles and you should go after Buffy."

"But de Order…"

"—Is still after Buffy. So she's going to need backup whether she finds this Angel or not. I'll alert Giles and the others. But Buffy really needs your help." Her gaze softened as she pled with this strange girl. 

But Kendra shook her head. "Dat's not de way I do tings, Mrs. Summers. Ya must drive me back. I'll report to Mr. Giles and den I can return here wit weapons."

"_We'll_ return here with weapons," Joyce corrected. "If there's one thing I've learned from watching my daughter, it's that she works better with her friends around her." Joyce opened the door and glanced worriedly at the trap door where Buffy had disappeared. She only hoped that whatever her daughter was headed into, she could handle it until the cavalry arrived.

Willy was busily chatting with Buffy. "You know, you and your girlfriend back there are real cute together. And your mom's not so bad either. Nice ti—" Buffy's stare was icy and he amended what he was going to say. "What I mean is, she looks great for her age and I can see where you get your good looks from. I know a guy who does photographs. Strictly classy. Artistic studies, you know? If you're interested in nude photos, I can see to it that he gets you good work. A pretty broad like you—"

"—Gets tired very quickly of being called pretty broad," Buffy responded. She shoved Willy so that he fell into the sewer water and then dragged him up, ignoring his spluttering protests.

He shook the water out of his eyes and tried not to swallow the dirty liquid as it dripped down his face. "Hey, what'd you do that for? I was just paying you a compliment!"

"Yeah, using every misogynist cliché in the book. Did you get stuck in the fifties or did you not get the memo that women don't like being treated like sex objects—especially girls who are strong enough to break your arm with one hand?" Buffy replied sweetly.

"Well, excuse me for saying you've got a nice body," he huffed. "Guess nowadays a guy's got to be a bloodsucker in order to charm the ladies, huh?" His voice got insinuating and he smirked as Buffy's face turned stormy.

"Speaking of bloodsuckers, you better hope Angel's in good condition when I find him. 'Cause if he's not, I'm gonna pound your head so hard into your bar counter, it'll become part of the furniture." She flung him into a wall of the sewer for emphasis. Willy yelped and staggered upright as Buffy continued to prod him along.

The Anointed One stared in curiosity at the bound vampire before him. He'd heard the Master talk about Angelus. His voice had been alternately scornful and admiring. Apparently, Angelus had defied him and snatched Darla away right in front of him—something no other vampire in his right mind would have dared to do. The Master had hated him for that. But the boy had detected grudging admiration for him, too. 

And the stories he had told of Angelus's exploits! Even trapped underground as he had been, news had trickled down to the Master about Angelus's wilder feats of bloodshed. This creature had been called the Scourge of Europe and led a terrible existence, one truly worthy of a Master vampire. With a vampire of his reputation on his side, no minion would dare to defy him. The Anointed One also thought he could learn a lot from this particular vampire…starting with why he had helped the Slayer.

He told one of the minions to remove the gag and the vampire spat, trying to remove the taste of cloth from his tongue. "I know you. The Master used to speak about you. You're Angelus," the boy intoned in his subterranean voice.

Angel peered up at the child. He had realized from listening to the creatures that had carried him here that these vampires knew nothing of his souled status. Perhaps it would be to his advantage to keep it that way. He rolled to his knees and smirked in the boy's direction. "That's right. Where is old Ratface, anyway? Didn't I hear tell he was trapped underground?"

"That's old news, asswipe," another vampire growled at him. "He was dusted last year by the Slayer." 

"Oh, yeah. Thought I remembered hearing that rumor—vaguely." Angel shrugged as if the news had been of no particular interest.

"The Master said you had feelings for the Slayer. You're helping her," the Anointed One accused.

Angel lifted an eyebrow. "Helping her? I'm _amusing_ myself with her, boy. Didn't the Master teach you anything about me? I like to play with my food." He grinned and let his brow ridges show.

The Anointed One wasn't so easily convinced. "Is that why you killed Darla last year?" The other vampires murmured at this intelligence. There, let him explain away that.

Angel shrugged again. He would have preferred having this conversation on his feet. Down here on his knees he was at a distinct psychological disadvantage. But he couldn't stand just yet. He was still wobbly and it wouldn't do to let this lot see his weakness. He rocked back on his heels as if he were perfectly at ease and not surrounded in the midst of an enemy camp.

"Darla and I had run our course. Hey, it was a great 150 years. Then it was over. But the bitch just wouldn't take no for an answer. She pushed me too far…so I had to stake her."

"Nobody stakes their Sire, Anointed One! Nobody! It's—you don't _do_ that sort of thing!" This came from an outraged Dalton.

"I don't see why not," the kid replied. "Darla was weak for doting on Angelus. She was no better than that vampire with the bad hair and his idiotic girlfriend. But Angelus obviously isn't such a fool. The Master got over her death and Angelus has moved on. I say, good for him." He grinned at Angel and the demon the floor smirked in response.

The other vampires cried out, shocked at his ignorance. Dalton tried to explain what was so reprehensible about what Angelus had done. "We don't kill our Sires, sir. Our loyalties to each other may waver. But fidelities to our Sires are absolute. Angelus should not have killed Darla. What he did was tantamount to a crime in the vampire community." Voices were raised that gave assent to his words. 

The Anointed One waved his hand sharply and the murmurs were cut off as if a door had slammed on a crowded room. "Obviously the Master didn't think so. Otherwise he would have had Angelus hunted down and slaughtered. Some criminal, huh? The Master let Angelus live. I say we bring him back into the fold and let him educate us."

"You sure that's wise, boss?" The vampire that'd paid Willy for him stepped forward. "He killed most of your minions in that raid on that pitiful human club. And Angelus ain't known for playing well with others. He never led or participated in a vampire clan. It was just him and that pack he ran with."

"I killed those minions because I wanted the Slayer for myself. Didn't want anybody else horning in on my meat. Besides, they were a bunch of losers. The Slayer and her friends took out most of them. I ask you—what kind of minions get taken down by humans?" Angel sneered. "As for my old gang, they're all gone, aren't they? I wouldn't say no to running with a new crowd." He looked around the cavernous space and made a face at the dreariness of it. "And I'm betting you could use some pointers. How to arrange better living quarters, for one thing."

The Anointed One shifted on his throne. It gave him much needed height but it was hard on the butt after awhile. "You can do this?"

"Unlike some of you, I've actually been in the world. I've got connections." That wasn't strictly true; Angel had shunned human beings for most of his souled existence. But this lot didn't know that. "So how about untying me and letting me up? This floor has seen better days and it's not doing a hell of a lot for my pants."

The boy signaled Dalton to untie Angel and the bespectacled vampire moved grudgingly to free him. Angel did his best to remain nonchalant. But there was a weird tingling at the base of his spine and it was getting stronger by the minute. If it was who he thought it was, he was going to need his hands free…

Willy came sauntering into the space, Buffy trailing behind him. "Hey, guys! I'm bettin' you never thought you'd see me again so soon. Lookit what I brought you!"

Buffy halted as she realized she was facing a roomful of vampires. She had felt a tingling in her gut, the special one that told her whenever Angel was near. She hadn't expected that he would be in such a large company. Kendra was right. First you call in. Then you go running after the enemy. Too bad she might not get a chance to learn from her mistake. Two burly vamps caught her by the arms and dragged her forward.

The little boy on the throne, the one she remembered from last year, stared at her from unnaturally yellowed eyes. "You," he hissed softly.

"That's right, sweetie. Hasn't your mother warned you about hanging out in a bad neighborhood like this?" she chided mockingly. "You should be home in bed, little boy."

The boy growled. No human referred to him as a boy any more. Certainly no slip of a girl was going to get away with it. "Why is she here?" he snapped to Willy.

"I heard you had a bounty on her head. Now I don't know what the Order of Taraka is askin' for her but they're professionals so I'm guessin' it's pretty steep. Ole Willy here will let you have her for half the price." He grinned at them only to cringe away as some of the vampires edged closer to him.

"Well, now that we have her, why should we pay you?" the Anointed One asked. "We can just take her and kill you both."

"Hold on! You're kinda new at this, kid, so let me fill you in on a few things. I'm the local eyes and ears in this town. I hear things and I give info to guys like you all the time. You need me—to keep you abreast of all that's going on out there. After all, it's hard to get good telephone reception in a joint like this." Willy licked his lips nervously and flinched as one of the vampires mimed biting at his jugular.

Angel stood up and sauntered over to Willy as casually as he could. "He's right. Willy here may be slime. But he's useful slime."

"But he turned you over to us—for money," the Anointed observed.

Angel shrugged, dropping his arm heavily across Willy's shoulders. "Like I said, he's slime. He was just looking to turn a quick buck. And I can't be too pissed at him, seeing as it led to my meeting you guys. Now as for the Slayer…" His face shifted and yellow eyes gleamed forth. "She's _mine._"

"How about letting me get a taste?" another vampire purred. This one was a slinky female with brunette hair hanging over her shoulders and a tongue stud. She let it flick out and click against her fangs as she winked at Angel.

Angel gave her a bored look. "I don't share my meals." A stake was whipped from under his coat and the female was dusted before she could move. That was Buffy's cue. She kicked in the knee one vamp holding her. He grunted in pain and loosened his hold. Getting one hand free, she pulled out Mr. Pointy and staked both of the vampires restraining her with one flowing move. Grabbing Angel by the hand, she took off at a dead run.

Angel tried to keep up but it was soon evident he was having trouble. "Buffy," he ground out. "Tell me your friends are waiting around a corner with crossbows."

"Um, not this time, Angel. It's just little ole me. They couldn't all leave at once. It's a school day…and Career Week. If we all disappeared at once—well, it'd kinda queer things for the others and we're already on Principal Snyder's hit list." 

Angel rolled his eyes in exasperation. That was his Buffy—impetuous but not always too bright. She pushed him up the ladder while keeping a sharp eye out for the pursuing vampires. "Do they at least know where we are?" 

"Well, Kendra knows. And my mom. They drove back to get reinforcements." At least that was Buffy's silent hope. Kendra may have simply decided to make a report and then refuse to come. Why should she? To the other Slayer, Angel was just another vampire. She didn't consider him worth saving.

"Kendra?" Angel replied.

"Um, the girl who beat you up. Turns out she's a Slayer, too." 

Angel paused in ascending the ladder and stared down at her in bafflement. "Another Slayer? How'd that happen?"

"I know, I know. This week has just been full of surprises," Buffy sighed. Just then a minion grabbed her by her ankle. She kicked back with her free leg, catching him in the face, but the action caused her to lose her hold and fall on top of the furious vamp. 

He grabbed her and wrenched her arms back hard. She struggled but the leverage didn't give her any leeway to move. "Ooh. Lucky me. I get to have a taste of Slayer."

Angel dropped back down, his game face flashing. "Like I told that girl back there, I don't like to share."

The vampire backed up, tightening his hold on Buffy. "Too bad. You come any closer, I'm ripping her throat out."

"You do and you're gonna wind up in tiny pieces all over the floor. I wasn't called the Scourge of Europe because of my taste in women." Angel was bluffing. He still wasn't up to full strength but he was hoping the other vampire wouldn't know that.

Indeed the bloodsucker hesitated, the menace in Angel's tone sufficiently convincing enough to give him pause. Then there was a solid "thunk!" and an arrow magically sprouted from his forehead. The vampire howled in pain and released Buffy. 

The two fighters looked up to see Kendra and Giles poised on the ladder above. She had another crossbow looped around her neck that she tossed to Angel. "Catch!" Then the other vampires caught up to them.

Mrs. Summers, Cordelia, Xander and Willow hovered uncertainly above the trap door. Well, the others were hovering. Cordelia was mentally slapping herself in the head. Why was she even involved with these jerks again? She'd stormed into the library to demand answers from Buffy's little team of Slayer-wannabes only to see them getting geared up with weapons. 

She'd wanted to back out right then and there but Harris had told her that buggy creep had been looking for the Slayer and thought Cordelia was it since she'd been in Buffy's house. If he came after her again, she'd be all alone with no Slayer around to help her. That had been enough to convince her to accompany them although she had complained loudly all the way about having to be seen with the Loser Brigade.

Now she was having second thoughts…and several others following that. She scowled when Willow spoke up. "D-do you think we should go and help them?" Willow asked, clutching her stake in a shaking grip.

Cordelia certainly didn't see the need to traipse down into a dirty sewer. "Why? They've got two Slayers, a souled vampire and the Watcher Supremo. I say we stay up here—"

"—And get eaten by bugs," Xander added. Cordelia's head shot up. Standing behind them in the bar was the awful presence of Norman Pfister. Cordelia screeched and Xander shoved her behind him. "Didn't Kendra say there was a cage around here?" he asked Mrs. Summers.

That's right; Joyce remembered seeing it earlier. "This way!" she yelled and ran with the others towards the metal cage.

"What good will this do?" Willow asked. "It's not solid. He'll start…" Her voice faltered as she saw Norman Pfister follow them. Before her shocked eyes, the man dissolved into a mass of worms that began crawling towards their enclosed space.

"That's where this comes in," Xander explained as he held up the tub of super glue he'd taken the precaution of buying on their trip to the bar. He motioned the females back and poured the glue all along the floor. As Norman's assorted parts slithered through the open links of the metal cage, they became trapped in the substance and wriggled vainly to escape.

"Okay, now!" Xander yelled and all four surged forward, stomping on the struggling annelids. In moments, all that remained of the former Taraka assassin were various squashed wormy parts. 

Cordelia staggered back and looked at her shoes in horror. "Oh, god. These are my new Manolo Blahniks. Do you have any idea how much these things cost?!?"

The other three stared at her in stupefaction. So stunned were they by her crassness, they failed to notice the other member of the Order sneak past them and disappear down the trap door.

Giles had had the foresight to bring swords. But getting them down the ladder proved problematic. He couldn't risk throwing them down and getting them taken up by some of their attackers. So he struggled to hold them while descending the rungs. 

Angel and Kendra quickly abandoned the bows. They were useless in close quarters anyway. Besides, Angel didn't want to risk hitting Buffy. His Slayer was a whirlwind as she tore through the vampires. She would have dearly loved to be ripping Willy to pieces for his betrayal. But he was human; these creatures would have to take his place as the targets for her pissedoffness.

They were doing a good job of destroying all the demons when the policewoman from the law enforcement booth in the Career Week fair joined the fray. Buffy was momentarily confused at seeing her until she saw the knives flipping forth from her wrists. When the woman charged her, she clucked her tongue in annoyance. The Order of Tiramisu had police officers on the payroll? That was just dandy. So much for her job prospects. She ducked several close swipes from the knives and decked the woman with a solid blow to the jaw.

Dalton listened fearfully to the sounds of battle coming from the outlying tunnels. He had never been much of a brawler and thankfully the Anointed One didn't expect it of him. When the diminutive vampire (his height far less intimidating than that of most other minions) suggested nervously that they should flee, the boy gave in. He had the feeling he was going to need more minions after this fight was finished. 

As he and Dalton fled down other tunnels, the noises from the fray fading in the distance, he grumbled to himself on yet another defeat at the hands of that stupid Slayer. "I _really_ hate that girl."

TBC


	6. Tough Talk

This batch of vampires wasn't so easy to dispatch. True, they were mostly fledglings created by a little boy desperate to build up his power base. But there were a lot of them fighting in an enclosed and darkened space they knew a lot better than Buffy and her friends. Not only that; there were two Slayers and each vampire was slavering to get his teeth into one of them. 

The fighting was therefore brutal and exhausting with neither side willing to give quarter. However, when Xander, Willow and Mrs. Summers descended into the sewer, the demons realized they might be up against superior odds and the survivors took the opportunity to scatter down the various tunnels. 

Willy had managed to escape their clutches and hide in an out-of-the-way spot. When the noise died down, he poked his head out of a corner and squinted fearfully in Buffy's direction. "Hey, you people didn't carry any of this fighting up to my bar, didja? 'Cause that kind of property damage really drives up the insurance."

Xander jerked his thumb in Willy's direction. "This the bartender Kendra mentioned?" 

Buffy nodded, her wrinkled nose indicating her distaste. "That's the creepola. He wanted to turn me over to the Anointed One. Or have me, Kendra and mom pose for dirty pictures. Not sure which was higher on his agenda."

"No fooling?" Xander glared and then turned to Willy. "No, no damage, fella. But, hey, do you know what gets icky, sticky glue out of the floorboards?"

Willy stared at him suspiciously. "No, not really. Why?"

Xander grinned back, unabashed. "Good." He turned to his friends. "Well, if that's all the excitement for the day, I think we should head back to our various ports of call." 

Cordelia Chase leaned down through the opened trapdoor and yelled, "That's easy for you to say, Harris. You didn't get glue slime all over $300 shoes."

Angel raised his eyebrows at Buffy and muttered, "She paid $300 for shoes? Is she crazy?"

"Jury's still out on that one," Willow whispered.

"I heard that, Rosenberg," Cordelia retorted icily. "I came here to help your sorry ass and I've got nothing to show for it but abuse and a pair of ruined shoes. Maybe you can afford to get your cheap clothes spoiled but I've got an image to maintain."

"Nobody cares, Cordelia!" Xander yelled back. "Now if you'll just stop blocking the doorway, those of us with real lives and not fashion statements to make would like to get back to school…before we're all expelled," he added meaningfully.

Cordelia sniffed and continued to carp about the unfairness of having her life destroyed by a bunch of monsters and the antics of underdressed so-called superheroes. Other than Xander's snippy comebacks, nobody paid her any mind. Back above the smell of sewer, Angel was more comfortable although he was still weakened from his injuries and hunger.

Willy was less than pleased when he saw the glutinous mess in his storage room. "Oh, man! Did you kids have to use the whole bucket? This is gonna be hell to get out! Who's going to pay for all this?!" He glared at the others and then gulped as he saw the hostile glares aimed in his direction. Belatedly he recalled that he was facing a room of armed fighters who had just killed a sizeable number of vampires.

Joyce Summers came over to him and handed him back his sodden wad of cash. "I believe these are yours. That should cover the damage."

"Thank you so much for giving me back my bribe. You're all heart, you are," Willy groused.

"Willy?" Angel said.

"Yeah, Angel?" Suddenly the bartender was nervous again.

"I believe you said something about pigs' blood earlier. I'd like to collect—now," the vampire finished in a flat tone.

"Huh? Well, uh, sure, Angel. Anything for you, buddy. So we're even, right? Um, no payback for the, uh, you know," Willy stammered.

"The betrayal? I'm willing to overlook it. This time." Angel bared his teeth slightly. His face didn't change but the threat was clear. A feeble smile flitted over the bartender's face and he scooted behind the bar to fetch the plasma. 

Kendra was satisfied that the battle had been sustained with no casualties on their parts although there was an unexpected outcome that rather aggrieved her. One of the vampires had torn her good shirt—her _only_ shirt—and she was examining the rip unhappily. Joyce was torn between confronting her daughter who had her arm around that, that _vampire_ and soothing the Jamaican girl's obvious distress. "Buffy? You still need to get back to school, don't you?"

"Yeah, mom. But first I have to stash Angel. We can't get to the car in the daylight…"

"I took the precaution of bringing blankets, Buffy. If your mother drives you a-and the others to school, I can take Angel to his apartment," Giles responded.

"No, Mr. Giles. You should bring Buffy and the others back," Joyce said. "You all need to return to school in any case. I can take Angel and Kendra in my car."

"No! Bad plan! I should be with Angel," Buffy said, clutching her boyfriend possessively. In spite of Kendra's timely intervention, she didn't trust the girl alone around the souled vampire. 

"Listen, people! All this quarreling is not helping," Cordelia snapped. She pointed at Buffy. "You and your little gang of freaks need to get back to school before that troll of a principal figures out you've been spending more time off campus than on. Mrs. Summers can stash Angel in the trunk of her car and take him back to his apartment."

"What about Kendra?" Willow asked. She didn't know why Cordelia was being so helpful. But she didn't think Kendra should be left out of their plans.

"Her? Well, if what the Superfriends were telling me is true, Kendra only came here to fight the Order of Tetra—"

"That's Taraka, Cordelia," Giles said wearily.

"Whatever. They've all been taken care of and the vampires are all 'whoosh!' dust so no more trouble from them. I'm thinking Kendra can go back to wherever she came from," Cordelia finished. 

"No, we shouldn't just dismiss her like that. Don't you want to stay in Sunnydale awhile? We can always use another hand. This town has no shortage of monsters," Joyce asked only to meet her daughter's disbelieving stare.

"Mom, I'm handling the Slayer gig just fine. I don't need a second stringer," Buffy retorted.

"Second what?" Kendra asked, her eyes narrowing. She didn't know what the phrase meant but it sounded like an insult of some kind.

"Kendra, I don't need you as backup any more, really. I've got my friends, my mom, my emotional attachments—you know, all that stuff you say _you_ don't need. You wouldn't want to get involved in all that nonsense. So it's been nice knowing you and all, but…"

"Buffy, that's no way to behave. She came here at great personal risk and sacrifice to herself and she did help even though she didn't think she needed to. The least we can do is show her hospitality." Joyce turned towards the other Slayer. "If you don't have other arrangements, would you mind staying with us for awhile?"

"Stay with ya, Mrs. Summers?" Kendra asked in surprise.

"Stay with us?!?" Buffy yelped. 

"No, Mrs. Summers, I'd rather not. Buffy is…" Kendra eyed the blonde Slayer and hesitated to continue.

"Buffy is what? What's the prob with me?" Buffy demanded. She was no eager to have the junior Slayer with her than Kendra was to hang around. But she was piqued at the other girl's clear distaste at the idea.

"Too different," Kendra concluded. She turned to Giles. "If it's all right, I'd prefer to leave as soon as possible. My Watcher will want a full report from me about all the tings I've seen here."

"Does that include Angel?" Buffy asked, thinking hard. If another Watcher found out about him, the Watchers Council would be involved. She was suddenly worried as she realized what that could mean for the souled vampire. "You can't talk about him."

"I can't lie to me Watcher," Kendra replied, frowning. "Is that what ya do with Mr. Giles?"

"I'm not talking about lying. Just don't tell Mr. Zamboni—"

"Zabuto. His name's Zabuto," Kendra corrected, a slight hint of anger seeping into her voice.

"Right, right. Look, Angel is a good guy. You saw how he fought in the tunnels. But the Council wouldn't understand that. They'd think he was dangerous—like you do. Please, Kendra. I'm not asking you to lie. Just—don't tell your Watcher. Okay?"

Kendra didn't like this. It went completely against her training. Hiding news of this magnitude from Mr. Zabuto wasn't something she thought she could do. It was an incredible revelation. Angelus had disappeared from Watcher intelligence for over half a century. None of the Watchers, even hers, had managed to locate him or learn what his final fate had been. Now she was privy to that coveted information—and she was being asked to hide it from her Watcher, her mentor and the closest thing she had to family since she'd been taken from her parents.

She looked at the vampire seated on one of the bar chairs. His eyes were closed and his head tilted forward onto his chest. He seemed curiously defenseless, nothing like the monster she'd been taught to fear. She had heard the menace in his voice when she threatened to find Buffy. Yet, moments ago, she'd seen him fight like a tiger to protect Buffy and shield the others. Was he really that different from the demons she'd been killing most of her life?

Fighting every instinct that told her to destroy him, she marched over to him and pushed her hand under his chin. "Look up," she commanded. "Look at me."

Angel restrained himself from trembling or drawing away from her. He'd seen what a formidable opponent this girl was. She'd kicked his ass quite solidly. The adrenaline rush from the battle had left him and he was still weak from hunger. If she chose to kill him now, he could put up little resistance. He looked into her eyes without flinching and waited for her verdict.

"What is this? She doing the Vulcan mindmeld? Beam me up, Scotty!" Xander joked.

Giles spoke absently, never taking his eyes off the odd tableau of Slayer and vampire. "Xander. Do shut up."

Endless moments seemed to crawl by while an unspoken communication passed from the vampire to the foreign Slayer. Something she saw in his eyes must have satisfied her. She nodded sharply and released him. Turning to Buffy she said, "Very well. I won't tell Mr. Zabuto."

Buffy let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Kendra had been altogether too close to her boyfriend. It had taken every ounce of will power she had not to knock the other girl away from him. "O-okay, then. Mom, let's get going before the sunshine reaches fatality levels."

"W-wait. What do we tell our teachers? What do we tell Snyder if he sees us? I'm thinking fighting evil isn't going to be an excuse he'll go for," Willow said as she remembered their other problems.

"Family emergency?" Giles ventured.

"One that involved all of us?" Xander replied. "What kind of family emergency would that be? An earthquake?"

"Well, I was taken away by computer recruiters. They wanted me for my big logic-y brains. They gave me these canapés. Oh!" Willow exclaimed as an idea came to her. "I don't have to go back to class right away. I could tell my teachers I got all ooey and sick with food poisoning and had to go yack in the bathroom. I'm pretty sure those things had shrimp in them…" she mused.

"Well, that covers you, Willow. What about me?" Xander said.

"We'll think of something on the way. We should really get going." Cordelia lifted up her feet from the floor again and sighed heavily. No, that glue wasn't ever going to come out; she was lucky she hadn't wound up being stuck to the floor. She wobbled out, her shoes being wrenched up from the floor with a sharp "squick" at every step. 

Giles pointed out that Kendra should stay for a while. They needed to decide on a similar cover story if neither of them were going to mention Angel in their reports. It was obvious the Jamaican girl wanted to return to her Watcher right away. But she reluctantly agreed to Mr. Giles's wish. She nodded stiffly at the others and got into his car without another word.

"Huh. Somebody needs to work on her personal skills," Cordelia sniffed and then dismissed the girl from her mind. So they all went to their separate destinations: Xander, Willow and Giles in his car, Cordelia in hers (in a fresh pair of shoes she'd kept stashed in the trunk—no way was she getting glue in her father's car) and Buffy's mother, Buffy and Angel in Joyce Summers's car.

In spite of her mother's assurances, she didn't trust her to take care of Angel as he needed. The fight had left him severely drained and he was deathly pale even for him. He hadn't even the energy to argue over being stuck in the trunk instead of protected under a blanket in the back seat.

Joyce drove carefully through the lightening streets. The fact that her daughter knew the way to Angel's apartment was not lost on her. She wondered just how much time Buffy had spent there and couldn't help darting suspicious glances at her daughter. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Buffy. I don't know where to begin about this. This is just…you died? You really died?"

Buffy shrank back into the seat a little. She would have preferred not to have this talk with her mother in an enclosed space. It made her feel trapped as if there was no place to run. She was also acutely aware of Angel in the trunk of the car. Could his vampire hearing pick up on what they were saying? "Yeah. It was…it was on prom night. There was a prophecy about my facing the Master—"

"The Master? Didn't you mention him when we were talking about Billy Fordham and his little vampire club? You said you killed him last year," Joyce mused. 

"Well, yeah, I did. But not before—he killed me." Buffy's voice got very low and she stared out the window, her throat closing up as she remembered what her death had been like. The Master's stinky breath on her neck, his fangs digging into her jugular, the still, shallow pool of water rushing up towards her nerveless body as he let her drop to the floor of his cavern…

Joyce's eyes widened and her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "He what? H-he was the reason you died?" She breathed hard as she tried to process this insane news. "B-but I saw you that same night. You came home from the prom." Her eyes darted all over her daughter's averted face. "You looked fine. I never saw any, any, marks. H-how did he… how did it _happen?_"

Buffy bit her lip. That night was something she never wanted to relive. She'd avoided even thinking about it. She'd certainly never discussed it with any one in her group—not Willow, Giles, not Angel. She wasn't sure she could tell her mother. But her mother had insisted on knowing.

"The prophecy said I would face him and die. I didn't want to go. I told Giles I quit. But he was going to go in my place and I couldn't let that happen. So I knocked him out and went. That's when I met the Anointed One." She took a deep breath as she thought of how easily she'd let that creepy little kid lead her to her death like that. For the first time, she was kinda pissed at the memory instead of just shivery and afraid.

"It was stupid to face him alone; I get that. I mean, the Master was waiting for me with his face like a lab rat's." She wrinkled up her face as she recalled how ugly he had been. Was that what was waiting for Angel down the road? 

"Then he bit me. I fell into a pool of water. Giles thinks the low temperature must have been what saved me. It stopped me from bleeding to death. The next thing I knew Xander was kneeling over me. He was giving me mouth to mouth…"

"Xander was there?" Joyce interrupted. "He _saved_ you?"

"That he did. Let's hear it for the donut fetcher," Buffy said. She turned towards her mother with a wan smile but Joyce saw through the trembling bravado. Her daughter had been scared that night. But she had gone to fight this creature nevertheless…and she'd never known it until today. What kind of mother was she?

"So...how does Kendra fit into the scheme of things? I thought Mr. Giles told me there was only one Slayer at a time," Joyce continued.

"You remember the speech Giles gave you about Slayers, right? H-how the next Slayer comes only if the present one dies, blah blah, pour me a cup of snooze."

"Yes, what about...?" Her eyes widened and she looked at her daughter. "Oh. I see. You died and Kendra..."

"Was activated. It's a whole magical, mystical Slayer screwup that the Watchers Council didn't bank on. So we get two Slayers for the price of one," Buffy explained.

Joyce drove in silence for a bit, turning this over in her mind. "She's really a Slayer, then? I-I didn't see her fighting in the tunnels. I-is she any good? Compared to you, I mean."

"Sure. She's kinda lacking in the imagination department but she kicks butt and then some." Buffy frowned as she thought of what Kendra must have done to Angel.

"This is incredible. I can't believe this happened and I didn't know, that you couldn't tell me. I know you face death every night. But this—it's too much." She considered what she was going to say next. 

But Buffy was thinking about Angel again. "Mom, we're here."

"What?" Joyce looked up. This was where Angel lived? She had expected a crypt or a graveyard somewhere. This place was none too prepossessing from the outside but it didn't seem particularly threatening. Popping open the trunk, she stood by as Buffy gently eased Angel out, the blanket covering every part of his body except his legs. He leaned on her daughter a little and she watched Buffy help him into the building.

Joyce was caught between helping Buffy and looking around the dimly lighted space. The weaponry was troubling but perhaps to be expected given the nature of his work with her daughter. Buffy had said he helped her, after all. It probably took more than vampire strength to kill demons. 

He had a shelf lined with books written in several different languages and the worn edges suggested that he read them often. The few prints and the statues were also not what she expected. They were classical in nature and very old; she could tell that at a glance. He had exquisite taste. Had he possessed such leanings when he was human or had that been something he picked up after he died?

Shaking her head, Joyce realized she was more curious about the vampire than she should be. She should be more concerned about what he wanted with her daughter. What could a human female barely 17 years old have to offer a vampire besides the obvious?

There was some broken and ruined furniture in the place. Angel was upset to see his neatly ordered space so violated. "What happened here?" he asked as he eyed the torn pillow and hanging bed curtain.

"Kendra ambush. She saw me sleeping here and came at me all Texas Chainsaw Massacre-y until we introduced ourselves," Buffy explained.

"You were sleeping here, Buffy? I thought you told me you were never at Angel's place," Joyce accused.

Buffy began to babble as she brushed aside the pillow and laid Angel down on the rumpled mattress. "I'm not. I know where Angel lives and all that but I've never actually stayed over at his place. I was only here because I thought he could help me with the Order of Taraka. I didn't mean to but I fell asleep on the bed. That's when Kendra decided to give me a haircut with an axe."

Angel stiffened at the idea that Buffy had been in such danger and he hadn't been around to protect her. The next moment he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of his Slayer where it lingered in the bed sheets. The aroma was powerful and he smiled as the vanilla scent rose around him.

Unaware of the vampire's growing desire, Buffy sat near Angel, resting a hand on his forehead. He was still rather ashen but he was in no danger of expiring. "You sure you'll be okay? You look really on the ick side of unhealthy, Angel."

He smiled at her. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and cuddle against her warmth. But he was acutely conscious of her mother's hovering presence. He contented himself with running his hand over her hair. "That's always nice to hear. But I'll be okay. I've got enough blood from Willy's to last me. You should get back to school."

"Right. Can't miss Snyder's daily rant about what a menace to society I am." Buffy pulled away from Angel although every fiber of her being yearned to nestle in his arms. But she knew her mother wasn't finished talking to her. Angel contented himself with kissing her hand and the two parted.

However, her mother didn't say another word about Angel or her death. Buffy found this even worse than accusations. Her mother's silences were mundo upsetting; they only meant she was gonna get it some other time.

Willow's excuse worked perfectly. Given that she'd just come back from a huge battle with vampires and was looking extremely worn around the edges, her teachers found it easy to believe that she might have been sick. Buffy's only excuse was that she'd stayed with Willow to give support and hold back her hair as she puked. To Xander's chagrin, no one seemed to have missed him much. The blindness of Sunnydale officials strikes again.

Giles's absence had also been overlooked. Being a librarian in Sunnydale High gave him a lot of leeway. Closing the library with a vague note about water leakage didn't appear to inconvenience any of the students unduly. Sometimes he wondered why they kept a library in the first place. No one other than Buffy and her friends ever seemed to use it. 

Buffy and Willow ducked into the library as soon as the blonde girl had had her obligatory run-in with Principal Snyder. Since the policewoman who was going to lecture her about her future as a cop had mysteriously disappeared, he had no real reason for chiding her about missing her appointment with the bulky female police officer. But he couldn't resist the urge to take a swipe at Buffy's own lack of cooperation, her oh-so-timely disappearances and her group of hooligan friends who insisted on covering for her. 

Finally, he had reluctantly released her and Buffy had gladly escaped to the library. It was beginning to feel a bit like a sanctuary since Snyder seemed to visit it as infrequently as the students. The two girls walked into the room only to stop short at the sight of Giles and Kendra poring over the book detailing the members of the Order of Taraka.

"De assassins…I've read about them before in the writings of Dramius," Kendra said, oblivious to Buffy's presence.

"Really?" Giles replied. "W-which volume?" He was curious as to the extent of this girl's knowledge. Mr. Zabuto had the reputation of being a hard but fair taskmaster as well as one devoted to the more aesthetic arm of knowledge every Slayer knew. Well, every Slayer but his.

Kendra didn't disappoint. "I believe it was six, sir. It didn't have any of dese helpful pictures, dough."

Buffy spoke up, inexplicably disturbed to find _her_ Watcher in such close confab with Kendra. "Um, how do you know this?"

Kendra didn't lift her head. She was once more noncommittal as if Buffy's question and Buffy herself were of no real consequence. "From me studies."

Buffy was determined to show that she could be dismiss-y, too. "Oh, so you obviously have a lot of free time."

"I study because it is _required,_" Kendra replied, a touch of asperity once again surfacing. She turned to Giles. "The Slayer handbook insists on it."

Handbook? What was Kendra talking about? And why did Giles suddenly look guilty? "Wait. Handbook? What handbook? How come I don't have a handbook?"

Willow realized that Giles wasn't exactly being supportive. "Is there a T-shirt, too? 'Cause that would be cool."

"After meeting you, Buffy, I realized that, uh, the handbook would be of no use in your case," Giles said absently, watching as Kendra lifted a page of the old volume by one corner and carefully turned it without touching it more than necessary. How he wished Buffy and the others treated his ancient texts with such reverential care…

"What do you mean it would be of no use in my case? Wha-what's wrong with my case?"

Giles apparently didn't notice Buffy's distress. "Well, Buffy, you've indicated on more than one occasion that you found research in general to be boring. You don't consider yourself the research type. You leave that up to me, Xander and Willow." He turned back to the Jamaican girl avidly scanning the texts. "Kendra, um, perhaps you'd like to show me the part in Dramius VI where he refers to the Order of Taraka."

Kendra smiled, the first one Buffy had ever seen from her. Her whole face seemed to light up as she spoke to Giles. "It was difficult. All dose footnotes. Dis book is much easier to follow," waving her hand at the tome underneath her fingertips. 

She and Giles both laughed and Buffy glared at them. "Yeah, all those pretty pictures must be a big plus," she gritted.

Giles finally noticed her ill temper. "Um, Buffy, is anything wrong?"

"Wrong? What could be wrong? We slayed the bad guys today. We slayed them good. I suppose Kendra will be leaving soon," Buffy replied cheerily.

"Y-yes, yes, I suppose so." Giles couldn't hide his disappointment and Buffy raked her eyes at the other Slayer. Then her Watcher spoke up again. "Oh, by the way. Principal Snyder was snooping around after you."

"Already seen the little toad. He gave me the lecture. Big nastiness with a side order of bitch thrown in."

"Ah. I see. Well, was there anything I could do for you? The danger has passed as you pointed out. Was there anything else?" Giles asked.

"Uh, no. I guess I just wanted to check in. See if you were all right," Buffy said lamely.

Giles replied, "We're quite all right, thank you." Buffy's lips thinned at the word "we."

"She had to talk to de principal? Buffy's a student here?" Kendra asked, one eyebrow raised. "And I imagine she's a cheerleader as well."

Giles smiled again. "Oh, no, well, a-actually she had to give up her cheerleading. It was quite an amusing story. I'll get the book of Dramius and I'll tell you all about it." The two retreated into the stacks and Buffy and Willow could hear occasional laughter as the two compared notes.

Buffy stalked out of the library. She had been thrown out! Okay, maybe that was too strong a word but that's what it felt like. "Did you see her giggling? And with Giles, no less! She's like a, like a, she-Giles!"

Willow struggled to keep up with her. "Yeah, creepy."

Buffy paused before going into her next class. Biology. All those sliced up pictures of humans and their veiny, pulsating insides. Ugh. Maybe this was the attitude that Giles was so down on. "I'll bet Giles wishes I was more of a book geek."

Willow replied, "Giles is enough of a book geek for the both of you."

"Yeah, but did you see how they were vibing?" She spoke in a mocking Jamaican accent. " 'I believe it was six, sir. But look at all de pretty pictures! Ha ha ha!' "

Privately Willow thought it was nifty that Kendra had book smarts _and_ Slayer power. But she knew that wasn't what the other girl wanted to hear. "Buffy, no one could replace you. You'll always be Giles' Slayer."

Buffy leaned beside the door, waiting for the bell to ring. "I wonder. Would it be so bad—being replaced?"

Willow's eyes widened. "You mean, like, letting Kendra take over?"

"Maybe. Now that it's all over, I could say, 'Kendra, you slay, I'm going to Disneyland.' " Except she couldn't enjoy Disneyland without Angel. She wondered if Disneyland was as much fun at night and how he'd look in Mickey Mouse ears.

The redhead was alarmed. Was Buffy thinking about going away? She couldn't do that! She didn't consider why the thought was so distressing. She only mumbled, "But not forever, right?"

Buffy shrugged, stepping out of the way of the departing biology students as the bell rang. "Naw. Disneyland would get boring after a few months. But I could do other stuff. Career Day stuff. Maybe even get that normal life mom keeps wishing I had."

Consultation about Dramius aside, Kendra proved remarkably efficient in cobbling together a report about her stay in Sunnydale. They created two reports, one for himself and the Council and one for her Watcher, Mr. Zabuto. True to her word, it contained no mention of Angel. She was still unhappy about lying to her teacher but at least she didn't pout about it as Buffy undoubtedly would have done. He was sorry to see Kendra go but he'd taken the liberty of keeping her address and phone number for future reference. 

Musing about the tough, talented Slayer, he nearly missed hearing the library doors open. Expecting to see Buffy again, he stood straighter in surprise at his unexpected visitor. "Mrs. Summers?"

"Please, call me Joyce. After everything we've been through, formality seems a little out of place," she answered. She had had a tough time finding a parking spot for the car although she didn't mind the extra time. It gave her an opportunity to think about what she had to say to this man and plan her strategy.

"Well, then. Y-you must call me Rupert."

"Rupert?" Joyce's lips twitched involuntarily but to her credit she didn't laugh. "Very well—Rupert. We need to talk." She pulled up a chair and sank into it heavily. "It's been quite a morning," she started.

"I-indeed," he said. He crossed to his office. "W-would you, uh, like a cup of tea?"

"Gladly. Do you have lemon herbal?"

"Uh, unfortunately no. Only Earl Grey. Will that suffice?"

She waved her hand wearily. "I'm easy. At this point, I'd take day-old coffee." She leaned back in her chair and surveyed the area. "This is a wonderful place. I can see why Buffy spends so many hours after school here."

"Y-yes. I quite like it myself. The many books, the airy, open space. It's a very secluded retreat almost like the libraries in England. I find it q-quite relaxing especially a-after a day like today." He heard the kettle hissing and poured two cups of tea. He handed one to Joyce and cradled the other in his hand, taking comfort from its warmth. He was certain she hadn't come here to discuss architecture and he waited to hear what she had to say.

Setting down the teacup untouched, she folded her hands and began. "Rupert, you told me there could only be one Slayer at a time. Do you remember that conversation?"

He blew on his tea to cool it—a stalling tactic—before answering. "In excruciating detail."

"Well, then. I was led to believe that Buffy would be the only Slayer in this generation. Kendra proves that's clearly not the case."

"I know. As I indicated, this is quite unprecedented. It's truly remarkable. I wonder if the people in the Watchers Council know about this. I-I'm afraid in all the excitement I haven't exactly gotten around to calling them." He set down his cup, removed his glasses and began scrubbing them vigorously, excited by the notion of informing his superiors of this extraordinary turn of events.

Joyce's slightly frosty tone brought him back to the current situation. "Yes, I can see how big a deal this is for them. Now there's something I need to ask you. Since there _is_ another Slayer, wouldn't it be possible for Kendra to take over Buffy's duties? Kendra seems—devoted to the idea of being a Slayer in a way that Buffy isn't. It's all she knows and she's obviously passionately committed. I'm certain if you informed her Watcher,—Mr….Zabuto, is it?—about Kendra's willingness to perform then he might see his way towards letting her stay here."

"I-I'm afraid Kendra has already left. I called a cab for her. She's on her way to the airport as we speak."

"Oh." Joyce slumped slightly. "But we could get her back, couldn't we? I mean, we could call her Watcher and have her come back if it's convenient. How pressing could things be in Kendra's home country if she could be spared to come here?"

"Evil exists all over the globe. Kendra needs to fight it in her part of the world just as much as Buffy must do so here. It was simply a matter of dire urgency that caused Kendra to leave Jamaica and come to Sunnydale. Now that the emergency is over, she is needed elsewhere."

"So…there's no chance of her coming back for a more permanent stay?" Joyce pleaded. 

"I'm afraid not. Buffy is the guardian of the Sunnydale Hellmouth and she is doing a capital job. There is no need to bring in a 'second stringer' as she put it except in extraordinary circumstances such as arose these past few days. Besides, I don't think Buffy would take kindly to being replaced. She was quite freaked, as she put it, by Kendra's unexpected appearance."

"Well, weren't we all? But I guess Buffy may have seen it as competition. She was always quite the little spitfire back in Hemery."

Intrigued, Giles set down his cup and sat by the table opposite Mrs. Summers. "W-was she? She never talks about those days to me."

"Oh, well, perhaps it's too painful to remember those happy days given what she has to do now. Did she ever tell you she was cheerleader in Hemery?" Joyce picked up her tea at last and took a sip of the cooling liquid.

"Really?" Giles smiled. "I can't say I'm surprised. Was she any good?"

"Astoundingly so. Athletic, powerful, with phenomenal leaps and splits. Now that I think about it, she was probably showing Slayer tendencies way back then. I just didn't realize it," Joyce mused thoughtfully. "Well, since you seem to feel Kendra can't replace Buffy, I want to know something. Would you have told me about her?"

He blinked, startled at the abrupt change of topic. "Pardon?"

"Would you have told me there was another Slayer if I hadn't walked in here today? Or would I have gotten some idiotic story from you when I returned on Thursday about uneventful patrols?" Joyce asked. Her tone was stiff, her look accusing, as she questioned her daughter's Watcher.

"Mrs.—Joyce, I believe Buffy would have wanted to tell you herself. She certainly wouldn't have appreciated my running around behind her back tittle tattling."

"But Buffy wouldn't have told me!" Joyce cried in frustration. She stood up and began pacing, an eerie reminder to Giles of her daughter whenever Buffy was feeling agitated and cooped up. "She's lied to me for over two years. Every time I find out something new about what she does, it's because I've stumbled across it by accident." She plopped down into her chair again, jostling the table and nearly spilling the tea. "I know it's partly because I'm her mother and young girls reach a point where they start hiding things from their parents. But you and I are adults, Rupert. I'd expect _you_ to be honest with me, at least."

Mr. Giles glanced down as he tried to arrange his thoughts. "Joyce, you have to understand that, if Buffy has been hiding the truth from you for two years, the Watchers Council has concealed their existence and that of Slayers for centuries. Reticence and secrecy are drilled into us from the very first day of our training. If Buffy finds it difficult to-to confide in you, imagine how much more so it is for me. It was shocking and deeply disturbing to me to learn that outsiders like Xander and Willow had learned about her secret identity. When she made it clear that you were not to be informed, I was only too happy to bow to her wishes."

"But things are different now," Joyce insisted. "Rupert, I just learned today that my daughter died. She _died_ and she never told me. If I'd known, then I would have had all this time to reconcile myself a little better to what she does. But now I've been thrown the news that she was dead and that it could happen again at any time. It's just too much for a mother to take all at once. I have to know you'll be straight with me in the future. Hiding only makes things worse in the long run. Don't you see that?"

"Yes. I understand completely. But my first priority is to my Slayer. If she feels you are better off not knowing about certain things, then I must consider her wishes first." He raised his hand as Joyce opened her mouth to contest his decision. "However, I am, as you said, an adult and Buffy is not. She has yet to mature and her judgment is sometimes not what it should be. If I feel it is necessary for you to learn about certain aspects of her Slaying duties, then I will tell you."

"Thank you." Joyce smiled gratefully at him and Rupert was startled by the abrupt resemblance he could see between this woman's weary smile and the unhappiness that had tainted Buffy throughout Career Week. Both women struggled to come to grips with Buffy's calling. It must be extremely hard for them to cope.

Any answer Giles might have made was interrupted as Jenny Calendar came striding smartly through the swinging doors. "Rupert, I—" She stopped when she saw Joyce sitting at the library table. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company."

"It's all right, Jenny. Was there something you had to tell me?" Giles sat up straighter. His heart fluttered whenever he saw the dark-haired teacher and he wondered what she had to say to him. 

"Well, it's not important. I suppose I could come back later." She turned to leave and Rupert felt a strong surge of disappointment. 

"Are you sure? I've plenty of free time at the moment." He realized that wasn't strictly true with Mrs. Summers there but he didn't want to let Jenny go.

She flicked a meaningful glance at Joyce Summers. "No, I'll come back later. This is rather—private." She left before he could formulate a convincing reason for her to stay.

"Who was that?" Joyce asked. She had sensed some hidden tension between Rupert and this woman. The Watcher had gotten a little flustered and that woman had called him by his first name. 

"T-that was Ms. Calendar. She runs the computer classes here at the school. She may have been looking for Buffy."

That didn't make sense to Joyce. "Why would she have been looking for Buffy here? Wouldn't it be better to talk to her after one of her classes?" 

"Perhaps the matter she had to discuss was related to slaying. Ms. Calendar i-is a t-technopagan and has lent her assistance a f-few times in the past when we needed help. She doesn't know that you know so that may have been why she was so uncommunicative just now."

She threw up her hands and slapped them on the table in frustration. "So a teacher knows that Buffy is the Slayer. When did _she_ find out about it?"

Giles was rather flustered as he tried to avoid her angry glare. "Um-um, i-it was last year when Buffy was f-facing the Master, I believe."

Joyce rested her head in her hands before lifting her face to grimace at Mr. Giles. "Last year. My god, did _everybody_ know about this before I did? You have no idea how stupid that makes me feel, Rupert."

Giles shrugged helplessly. Nothing really made you feel better when you'd been made a fool of so he couldn't really think of anything to say to console Mrs. Summers. She had taken the news of Buffy's slaying with remarkable aplomb. But a lot had come her way and she looked to be near the breaking point. 

"Joyce, all I can say is that I'm sorry you're feeling so distressed. But the truth about such matters is extremely difficult for most people to hear. As they grow older, they take comfort in the knowledge that the monsters under the bed that they feared as children aren't real. They close their minds to the very possibility that such fearsome beings could exist. For the average citizen to learn that these monsters are real, that they exist to devour and destroy mankind and the only thing standing between them and a hideous death is the life of one frail girl—well, it would be too much for many to handle. There would be panic, pandemonium in the streets. We hid this from you as we would hide it from anyone else. Believe me, it's no reflection on your intelligence that you didn't suspect the truth."

"Like Buffy says, I _was_ into denial about all those strange things that kept happening around here." She finished her tea and set down the cup. "Now I know why those TV shows have the government covering up the existence of aliens." Joyce chuckled tiredly. She lifted her eyebrows as a thought occurred to her. "Aliens aren't real, are they, Rupert?"

"Um, not to my knowledge, Joyce. But on the Hellmouth, anything is possible." 

His halfhearted attempt at humor was not unappreciated. Joyce graced him with a tiny smile and stood up. "I guess that's all there is to say, then. Thank you, Rupert, for being so understanding. Maybe, if I have you to talk to sometimes, this won't be so hard to take."

"I-I'm glad you're feeling better, Joyce. Although I have to confess I'm not sure I'm really helping. All I can do is let you know the worst of what's happening with Buffy. I'm not certain you'll thank me for that in the long run."

This time her smile was laced with a kind of resignation. "Maybe. But I can't say I didn't ask for it."

Buffy still wasn't too happy about Giles getting cozy with Kendra. But after having seen the girl leave the school grounds in a taxicab she became a lot chipper about it. Now something else was worrying her.

"I'm telling you, Willow. I thought mom was going to scream me stupid for holding back on her about the dying thing. Sure, she was upset about it. But then she sorta calmed down when I had to take care of Angel. In fact, she was way too calm. I'm wondering if she's suppressing again or storing up ammunition," Buffy said to Willow between their remaining classes.

"But it's a good thing, right? You're getting everything into the open all at once so you can get it out of the way and there'll be no badness later with her finding out ugly stuff that you kinda forgot to tell her. I mean, now that she knows everything—and I mean, everything—she can get it all out of her system. So how'd she take it about Angel?" Willow finished.

"We didn't really get into that. I think she's accepted that Angel is batting for the good side—barely. But we spent most of the drive talking about me dying. So I guess the Angel issue is on the rear burner. For now, anyway. It's later I'm worried about."

Xander overheard the last bit of conversation as he caught up to them. "Whacha worried about, ladies? We just trounced a buncha bad guys. I say we take a well-earned rest, sleep through the rest of our classes and then party at the Bronze."

"I'm gonna have to pass, Xander. I-I promised mom I'd talk to her about Angel and then there's patrolling. That's gonna take time. So no party hardy for this Slayer."

"Oh, right. Guess Momma Summers was a bit upset at the idea of her daughter groping with the undead," Xander said. "Mothers are funny that way."

"I'll see you later, Willow," Buffy said pointedly and went off to her next class without looking at the snarky teenager.

Willow scolded him. "Xander, stop being so rough on Angel. Angel saved her from that guy who attacked her."

"Really? 'Cause I got the idea from her story that _she_ saved _him_. I don't know why you guys keep thinking he's such a big hero," Xander groused. 

"Maybe because he is. You just don't want to see it," Willow replied as she looked after the departing Slayer. "And Buffy doesn't need you doing the dump on him. She's gonna get enough of that from her mom."

Buffy wasn't looking forward to this. She'd rather go on patrol and stomp on some demons. She wanted to run into Angel's sheltering arms. But she had promised her mother a talk. [Seems we've been talking an awful lot lately. Who knew being a Slayer would be so much of the chatty?] Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door and walked in.

"Yes. Yes, I know I left rather hastily." Her mother was on the phone talking to someone, her back to her daughter. "I had to leave. It was a family emergency." Pause. "I told you. I was worried because my daughter wasn't answering my calls. I'll get back as soon as I can to pick up the other merchandise." Another pause and she sighed in relief. "Thank you for being so understanding."

She hung up just in time to catch Buffy edging up the stairs. "Where are you going, young lady? We were going to have a talk, remember? About you and that vampire you got all hot under the collar about."

Buffy tried a light smile. "I know. I-I wasn't sneaking off. I saw you were on the phone and wanted to get upstairs and change before we had the big blowup over Angel."

Mrs. Summers gestured Buffy into the living room and sat on the couch. "Buffy, I don't want to 'blowup' about him. But you have to see that your relationship with him is…unrealistic at best."

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't see that 'Slayer + Vampire' equals unrealness? Mom, when I met Angel I didn't know who or what he was. He was just some annoying guy that kept popping up and giving me these cryptic messages of doom. 'Danger, Danger, Will Robinson!' was a lot more of the inform-y than Angel ever was." Buffy huffed and plopped down on the couch beside her mother.

"So what changed? How did he go from annoying to—kissable?" Joyce stammered.

"I-I don't know. He's good looking. You've seen that." She darted a peek at her mother's face and blushed slightly at the woman's exasperated expression. "But it's more than that. I've seen cute boys before. But none like him."

"I'll bet."

Buffy protested before her mother could leap to the wrong conclusion. "It wasn't the vampire thing, I swear! I've seen other vampires and I just kill them. There's no lustiness involved there. I mean, eww. I didn't know Angel was a vampire at first. I'd see him around and we'd talk and there was just…I don't know, sparkage. I mean, major fireworks were going off every time I saw him. I didn't mean for it to happen and neither did he. H-he told me that he was older than me and this thing between us couldn't go anywhere. Then he talked about how every time he was around me he couldn't think of anything except kissing me and then we kissed…and that's when I knew." 

Buffy stopped and stared at her hands. She could see it in her mind as if it were yesterday: Angel standing there in her darkened room, speaking in his low voice about his desire, his lips sucking fervently at her own, the sudden spasm as if he'd been in pain and then that demonic face lifting up to hers… There was a faint prickling in her eyes and she blinked rapidly to clear it.

"When did you know? H-how long ago did this happen?"

Buffy thought about that memorable first kiss. What girl doesn't remember that? "April 14, 1997."

Joyce frowned as she considered. This thing between her daughter and that creature had been going on for seven months. That wasn't so long in the grand scheme of things—less than a year. But it was a long time for a teenaged girl full of raging hormones with a handsome boyfriend. And how long was it to a vampire of his years? How old was Angel, anyway? "This—Angel. How old is he? Those things in his room…some of them were precious antiques. I recognized them," she added in response to Buffy's look.

"He's…" She swallowed and continued defiantly. "He's around 240 years. Not really old as vamps go. The Master was way older. He'd been around so long he made the 'grrrr' face and it stuck that way. Guess his mother didn't warn him about that."

Joyce didn't smile. This wasn't the least bit amusing to her. "Buffy, this is serious. This vampire is over two centuries older than you. And you're not even legal yet! He must have seen thousands of women far more experienced. What could he possibly see in _you_?"

Buffy's expression turned wounded as if she'd been slapped. Joyce hastened to amend her last statement. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm not saying you're not a wonderful, bright, talented, sweet, terrific girl. You're my daughter and my only child. Naturally, I'd be biased. But to a…creature of his experience—"

"Angel's not a creature, mom. He's got a soul. That puts him a notch above all the beasties I stake every night," Buffy snapped, her eyes flashing with hostility.

Joyce took a deep breath. She would get nowhere antagonizing her daughter over her choice in boyfriend material. She recalled enough of her own teenaged years of rebellion to understand that. "All right. But if he's like most men, he'd eventually prefer a woman of experience, one more like…himself. Why would he hit on a teenaged girl a fraction of his years? What, exactly, is it that you're offering him that he hasn't seen or gotten elsewhere?" Had Buffy even asked herself these questions? Joyce looked into her daughter's eyes and watched her struggle with the answer.

"Mom, you're right. I know I'm way younger than Angel and he's been with other women. I'm not stupid about that. But I know his past and he knows I know. So it's not as if he's lying to me or trying to trick me. And if I really wasn't special, why would he stay with me…or feel for me? And he does. I-I spoke to him on Halloween when I tried dressing like a lady from back when he was still walking in daylight. He didn't get why I thought he'd like me better that way. I guess I was trying to see whether he'd like me as an ordinary woman of his day."

"And what did he tell you?" This was on Halloween? Joyce had been out of town that day. What had occurred between her daughter and this Angel that she didn't know about? 

"He said he found those noblewomen boring. They were dull and stupid. He'd always wanted to meet somebody exciting and different. I guess I fit the bill."

"So that's it? He gets a thrill out of being with a-a Slayer?" 

"NO." Buffy was irritated. Didn't her mother get it? "It's not the Slayer thing. Honestly, that would be just sick. I'm supposed to kill his kind, remember? He likes me for _me._ He convinced me of that." She remembered that night when Angel lay on her bed, laughing because she'd thought being a noblewoman was the way to his heart. He had convinced her of his true feelings…quite thoroughly, as a matter of fact.

"Well, I'm glad you're convinced. Because I'm not."

"Mom, he's fought by my side. If it hadn't been for him, I would have died the night the Master killed me."

"I thought you said Xander rescued you."

"He did...by giving me CPR. But he'd never have found the place if Angel hadn't shown him. There are gadjillions of tunnels running under Sunnydale. There's no way Xander could have found the right one on his own." She clasped her mother's hand trying to convince her of Angel's decency.

"He wants to help people, to make up for all the years of killing. I've seen the goodness in him. I-I wouldn't care about him if he was evil." A small part of Buffy wondered if this was so true. But she squelched it and sternly sent her inner critic to go sit in the corner.

"But he's immortal—and you're not. You have to see there's absolutely no future in this," Joyce pointed out.

"Way to be depressing, mom," Buffy said, rolling her eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. But I think today proves Angel's just as weak as anybody else. Kendra might have killed him. Willy might have done it if he didn't have a joneses for money. He's not Superman, mom. H-he's just a guy trying to make up for a lot of major evil."

"But he's not just any guy, is he, Buffy?" Joyce corrected gently. "He's a vampire and that's definitely an obstacle to a long-term relationship."

"Mom, I'm a Slayer. That's definitely an obstacle to a long-term relationship," Buffy countered. "I learned that last year and today with Kendra. I'm the expendable one."

"Buffy, don't—"

"But it's true!" she burst out. "I die, another rises. That's the Slayer dealie. There'll always be Slayers. But a souled vampire is kinda of the unique. And one who fights the good fight? Definitely not gonna find another one of those hanging around the local K-Mart. If I live, if I'm gonna survive, it's because I have good people helping me. People like Angel."

"Then you're with him only because he's a powerful fighter?" 

Any feeling of hope Joyce might have had was dashed when Buffy spoke again. "That's part of it. But, even if he wasn't, I'd still care about him. I'd-I'd still love him."

There was a profound silence following that statement. Joyce didn't know what to say. Today had produced one unpleasant shock after another and this was hardly the worst. What could she say that wouldn't have Buffy immediately up in arms? Her daughter looked defiant and fearful both at once. She'd carried these burdens for so long, afraid to let her own mother in on her secret. If Joyce pulled away now, Buffy would go back to hiding—perhaps permanently.

She hugged Buffy with one arm and sighed heavily. "Buffy, I can't say that I'm happy with this."

"I know."

"Then again, I haven't been happy with any of this since I found out about the whole slaying thing. But, if this Angel is as important as you say he is, then I'll have to learn to accept him."

"It's okay. I'm not going to be inviting him over or anything. You'll never see him. I promise," Buffy said hastily.

Joyce peered at her daughter's anxious face. "Oh, Buffy, please. You make him sound like an unwanted hamster you're promising to keep out of sight in your room. Have you forgotten I've already met and talked to him?"

"But that was before, uh, you found out about the vampire thing." 

A deep sigh came from her mother. "Yep. The vampire thing." She thought for a long moment. "So I guess having him over for dinner is out of the question?"

Buffy pursed her lips. "Um, I'm thinking not unless we start storing pigs' blood with the frozen veggies."

"Let's not go rushing things, dear."

"Gotcha." She looked at her mother. "Are-are we good here?"

"Not by a long shot," Joyce replied bluntly. "But I suppose I'll have to grin and bear it."

Buffy squeezed her mother's hand and stood. "I-I've got to get out and go slay." She pressed a kiss to her mother's forehead and ran off before the startled woman could react.

Joyce shook her head. "Only in this household would that be considered a closing line to an argument." She rose to her feet and stared sightlessly through the front windows of the house as she considered all the demonic, dead and undead monsters that awaited her only child.

And one of them was Buffy's boyfriend.

TBC


	7. Men, Who Needs 'Em?

Joyce was pleasantly surprised. She'd never had a man cook for her before now. Ted seemed so accomplished in everything he did. He also had an excellent job. Admittedly, he was mainly involved in computers which had never interested her much beyond using their capabilities as a website for her gallery. But he merely specialized in selling the things and didn't bore her with droning on and on like a geek about RAM or software. 

He was soft-spoken, tender, funny, neat without being fussy and genuinely nice. He also was in no hurry to get her into the sack, something for which she was profoundly grateful. She hadn't dated anyone since the divorce and she was leery of any relationship that rushed into the physical too soon. So far, they'd indulged in nothing more sexual than a few kisses. All in all, Ted was the perfect gentleman. She was sure Buffy would like him. She hoped so, anyway. 

Now said gentleman was kissing her again—very thoroughly as a matter of fact. "No!" She'd protested, laughing, because she didn't want the food to burn. But Ted was making it really hard to concentrate on dinner. Not noticing that he'd pushed her against the table, she jostled it and a wineglass wobbled, crashing to the floor. 

Buffy darted in, Willow and Xander on her heels, and halted as she saw her mother kissing a strange man. Joyce and the guy jumped apart, her mother looking really guilty. "Mom. I'm sorry. I heard glass breaking. I thought…"

Joyce was deeply flustered. She straightened, brushing down her mussed hair. "It's okay, Buffy. I-I was a little careless. I broke a wineglass. Y-you're home early." 

Early? Buffy didn't think so. In fact, she figured she'd gotten here just in the nick of time. She smiled wanly at the guy, glad she hadn't come rushing in, stake in hand. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied. He appeared completely unembarrassed at being caught in kissage with her mother and Buffy felt her hackles rise slightly.

Joyce said hurriedly, "Uh, this is my daughter Buffy. Buffy, this is Ted, Ted Buchanan."

Ted stepped forward, extending a hand and a friendly smile. "So you're little Buffy Summers! I've been eager to meet you. Your mother has told me so much about you. What does she mean by coming in early? It's late for a school night, isn't it? Did they keep you after classes or something?"

"I-I had tutoring. In history." She paused awkwardly and looked around the kitchen. There was an unfamiliar food smell coming from the stove and Buffy wondered what her mom could be making. 

"That's right. We've been helping her," Willow threw in.

"We have?" Xander asked. Willow glared at him and he hurried to correct himself. "We have! Actually, it's been more of a study group. We get together and study and correct each other's mistakes or at least not try to make them any worse. That way, if we screw up on tests and such, we've got at least two other people to blame." Ignoring the two girls' rolled eyes, he sniffed at the air. "Is that pizza I smell?"

"Homemade," Ted replied. "Want to try some? I made plenty. I think there's more than enough to go around. I know how teenagers eat."

"You haven't seen Xander," Willow said. "He's like a vacuum cleaner with legs." Ted and her friends went to the dining room and Buffy sidled up to her mother.

Joyce avoided looking at Buffy for a moment while she scooped up the broken glass. She just knew there were questions coming and her daughter didn't disappoint her. 

Buffy cleared her throat. "So, Ted, huh? Where'd you meet him?"

"He sells computer software. He, um, redid my entire system at the gallery, freed up a lot of my time."

"Time to meet new people. And smooch them in my kitchen."

"Excuse me. _My_ kitchen, young lady. Last I checked, I'm the one who pays the bills around here," Joyce retorted, her voice tart. She was feeling guilty, yes, but she was hardly going to let Buffy walk all over her. She relented when she noticed Buffy's tight expression. "He's very nice."

"I guess. I mean, I could hardly tell. I just met him and my first impression was a backside and lips on my mom." She heard a squeal from the living room and paused, peering out at Ted and her friends. Willow had a rapturous look on her face. Either Ted had just sold her on some computer hardware or Xander had pinched her on the butt. Buffy was betting on the former. Xander had a dreamy look on his face as he crammed a mini pizza into his mouth. Buffy wondered why he didn't choke; he practically inhaled the darn thing.

Ted came back in and saw the two Summers's women. "Buffy, I want to apologize. That wasn't how I wanted us to meet. I wanted it to be…perfect. I'm very fond of your mother. I guess that's pretty obvious. I know you're the most important thing in her life, and, well, gosh, that makes you pretty important to me, too."

Joyce Summers drifted closer to the taller man. "Buffy, I really want you to be okay with this."

Ted wrapped his arm around her like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Beg to differ. _We_ really want you to be okay with this."

To Buffy, the stiff smile she was wearing had to be glued onto her face; it felt so tight. "I am. Really."

Joyce smiled dreamily at Ted and Buffy had to fight the urge to throw up. Her mother had such a weird look on her face. She looked so, so, idiotically, foolishly…_happy_ as if Ted were the greatest thing since sliced pizza. The next moment she gave herself a sharp mental kick in the head. Her mother looked happy, really happy, in a way she hadn't since Dad left, since she learned her daughter might die before she got out of college. Who was Buffy to stand in the way of that?

So why did being around Ted give her the heeby jeebies?

__________

The vampire she was pummeling was hardly a challenge. But Buffy didn't let that stop her from punching it repeatedly, slamming its head with a metal trashcan lid and delivering several crippling jabs to the body and knees before finally staking it. She stood up, barely breathing hard from the exertion, and whirled around at the familiar tingling in her gut.

Angel threw up his hands at the sight of Buffy's upraised stake. "Whoa! Easy there, Buffy. It's just me."

"Oh. Right." She lowered the stake and stomped through the park.

Angel fell into step beside her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just wonder where all the vampires are tonight. I know we racked up major kill points when we crashed the Anointed One's place but you'd think there'd be other demons out there. Xander was right; evil is not even trying any more."

"I meant what's wrong with you. You're unusually…tense. I saw the way you pounded that vampire."

She grinned. "Impressed?"

"Terrified was more like it," he responded dryly. "You were out of control. One false move and he would have gotten you." 

She scowled. She really didn't need Angel criticizing her performance. "But he didn't," she snapped. She peered through the darkness as she tried to spot other demons coming her way.

"Come on, Buffy. I know there's something on your mind. Why not tell me what it is?" Angel asked.

As always his soft voice melted her heart. That probing intense stare wasn't helping to keep her thoughts to herself either. Thinking about Ted after he'd left the house had made her seriously PO'd but she couldn't voice what was digging at her without sounding petty. "I—it's silly. Just stupid Buffy nonsense."

"Well, let me be the judge of that. Please, Buffy. You don't like it when _I_ hold things back," Angel reminded her.

"Oh, sure. Rub Buffy's past speeches in her face. Believe me, oh souled one, this is way more serious than gypsy curses. I mean, I thought things were under control with the vampire slayage and even though Kendra threw me for a loop, I took that in stride. So what if the 'one girl in all the world' speech Giles gave me was so much garbage? She came, she slayed, she left, I dealed. Then just when things are settling down—bam! I get hit with more vampires who just come into my life and swarm over my mom with tentacled, squidy arms and try bribing my so-called friends with free upgrades and mini pizzas and it's totally not fair!"

Angel had said nothing only nodded sympathetically. Even as a lad in 18th-century Galway, he'd understood the value of indulging a lady's urge to prattle. Sometimes the surest way to a woman's heart was letting her talk to her heart's content. It was an easy way for a man to seem tender and caring without putting much effort into it. 

However, he seriously wanted to get to the bottom of his sweetheart's discontent. But that last sentence threw him a curve ball. "What? What was that about vampires and pizzas?"

Buffy continued, heedless of her baffled boyfriend. "Sure, the pizzas may be great but what do we really know about him?"

"Either I nodded off partway through that speech or I'm missing something. This isn't about vampires, is it?"

She heaved a great sigh of frustration. Where were all the vampires tonight? Buffy knew she wasn't one of the world's greatest thinkers so she could have used an undead punching bag or ten to take out her Ted-anger on. Instead she had to struggle to put her unease in words. "It's about…it's about…"

"Yes?" Angel prompted.

Her shoulders sagged. "My mom's new boyfriend."

Angel's lips twitched but he was careful not to smile in the face of her obvious distress. "Your mother's seeing someone?"

"No! I mean, I think she's seeing him. I don't know how old this thing between her and Ted is."

"That's his name? Ted? What's he like?"

"Mom met him at work and he seems really…okay. But I don't trust him," she added hastily.

"Why not?"

"He's too nice. I don't know anything about him and neither does Mom. But she's inviting him into our home and he could have been a vampire or demon for all she knew."

The vampire could understand Buffy's concern. But he was certain Joyce was sufficiently aware of the Hellmouth and its dangers not to be that careless ever again and he told Buffy this. "You're mother's more careful than that, Buffy. I'm certain she's seen this guy in the daylight if she met him at her job, right?"

She glared at him. "Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?"

"I'm not choosing sides here, Buffy. I'm just wondering if there isn't something else behind this. Maybe you dislike this Ted because you see him as a threat to your happy home, the home you've just managed to make your own after all the difficulties you've been facing."

"That's not it!" Buffy protested. 

"Are you sure? You were comparing Ted to vampires, the bane of your existence, a moment ago. You said your mother doesn't really know him. But you didn't really know anything about me when you invited me into your house," Angel reminded her.

"That's right. Use logic on me," she groused. He sounded too close to the mark and she felt compelled to defend herself. "It's just nobody knows anything about Ted and they're falling all over him. Mom's mooning like a teenager and the teenagers are giggling like little kids. You should have heard Willow and Xander going gaga over hard drives and fast foods. It was creepy. I would have thought Xander would be more on the ball after those Incan mummy girl and bug lady disasters."

That was the second time Angel had heard about Xander's involvement with weird creatures. So far nobody had seen fit to enlighten him. "Bug lady? Xander was involved with—?"

"Oops. Save it, Angel. Vamps at ten o'clock. Woohoo!" Buffy spotted a couple of vampires attacking a smooching pair of teens and raced after them. Clenching his teeth in irritation, he jogged effortlessly after her. He was going to hear the tale of Xander Harris's humiliating romantic defeats if he had to shake it out of Buffy himself.

__________

School was unbearable the next day. In spite of the vampire killings, which usually tired her out so that she slept soundly, Buffy was one grouchy little camper. The thought of her mom—her aging-far-too-old-and-over-the-hill-to-be-dating-again mom—locking lips with a stranger had made her toss and turn all night. Thus she was in no mood to listen to Xander and Willow ramble on and on about wonderful Teddy. 

"All I'm saying, Buffy, is that you could have at least tried those pizzas! I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven!" Xander sighed and smacked his lips.

"I can't believe you'd be won over by cheese toppings, Xander. I'd think you of all people would be more careful. Aren't you the guy who was doped up by a mantis lady and her drugged cocktails?"

"It was only _one_ martini and that hit me right away. Those pizzas were hours ago and I'm feeling just fine, thank you." Xander let out a belch. When the two girls "ewwed" and moved away from him pointedly, he said, "I'll have you know that was breakfast. Pop Tarts can be really burpifying on an empty stomach."

"What have you got against Ted, Buffy? He seemed an okay guy for an adult. Not as stuffy as Giles…" Willow ventured.

"Or as dead as Deadboy," Xander finished. He never lost an opportunity to take a swipe at Angel if he could help it.

"Guys, I'm just saying that we don't know him. It's too soon to be given him all our love, trust and support," Buffy pointed out. "I mean, so far all I see is someone who apparently has a good job, seems nice and polite and my mother really likes him."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. He's a real monster, all right."

Willow tried to get to the heart of Buffy's worry. "Are you sure you're not just going into Sigmund Freud territory, Buffy? You know, separation anxiety, the mother figure being taken away, conflict with the father figure…"

"Except he's _not_ my father," Buffy said with a frown.

"Someone's got parental issues, someone's got parental issues…" Xander chanted in a singsong voice.

"You shouldn't throw stones, Xander," Willow murmured with a pointed stare. Xander's chant came to an abrupt halt and a shadow passed over his face. Buffy didn't notice as she pondered the problem of Ted.

"Guys, I'm usually good at sensing when something's not right and I'm telling you there's an offness about him. He's giving me a creepy vibe."

Xander's eyes widened as the man in question came down the school stairs behind Buffy. "Ted!"

Buffy blinked at the interruption. "Of course, Ted. Who'd you think I was talking about?"

Xander waved crazily at the computer salesman. "Hi, Ted! Ted, who's here."

Buffy spun around, too startled by his appearance on her turf to be polite. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm updating the software in the guidance department. Which reminds me." He pulled Willow aside and handed her several disks from his pocket. "These are the upgrades I promised."

Willow's eyes lit up like green sparklers and she let out another excited squeal. Xander winced. "Willow, please. Somewhere dogs are howling."

"I'm sorry. It's just so good to get nice things on the Hell…that is high school," she covered as both Xander and Buffy shot her identical "shut up" looks.

"Buffy, I want to apologize again for last night. It must have been hard for you to see your mother and me like that and I want to give us a chance to get to know each other better under better circumstances. How do you feel about miniature golf?"

Miniature golf? As a sport, she ranked that right down there with tiddlywinks and foosball. She opened her mouth to refuse when Ted continued, running roughshod over her unspoken protests. "I'll fix a picnic basket."

Xander grinned. "With more of those pizzas?"

"They're not so much afternoon snacks. I was thinking ham and cheese sandwiches with pickles, homemade potato chips and home baked chocolate chip cookies." 

"Chocolate chip cookies? Count me in," Xander said, his enthusiasm for Ted's home cooking get the better of his judgment. "When's this little outdoorsy shindig?"

"Your mother was thinking we could go on Sunday and make a day of it. Whaddaya say, Buffy?" 

Willow danced up and down a little, her enthusiasm carrying her away. "Oh, let's. Please, Buffy?"

"Actually, I had something else planned for Sunday," Buffy stammered.

"Something else?" Ted frowned slightly. "Like what?"

"Like…a date! Yeah, I'm spending the time with my boyfriend. Sorry, we rarely get time to ourselves so I can't afford to cancel. I'll just have to take a rain check, Ted!" Buffy gave him a brilliant smile and was about to leave when the salesman's thoughtful voice stopped her.

"Joyce didn't mention that you had a boyfriend. Is it possible for me to meet him?" Ted asked.

"Meet? Don't you think it's too soon for meetings? I mean, mom only met him a few weeks ago and you just showed up in my life last night. I don't think you're in the parental role of meeting and greeting my significant other just yet."

"Beg to differ. I told you, Buffy. You're important to your mother and so you're important to me. I see no reason why your boyfriend and I shouldn't be acquainted. Invite him to join us on Sunday."

"Um, n-no can do. He sleeps during the day and works at night. Also, he's kinda shy." Xander snorted at that. Buffy paid him no attention.

"Really? Then maybe we should just forget about the miniature golf and your boyfriend can join us for Sunday dinner."

Buffy's face stretched in a tight smile again. "Swell."

__________

Buffy's feet dragged as she walked home. She'd tried to delay this as long as possible. [Me. My mom. My mom's boyfriend and my undead boyfriend. Ho boy.] If the thought of the upcoming meeting between her mom's squeeze and hers made her this tense, then she would need serious unwinding after it. The demons of Sunnydale were going to be in for a rough night of it.

Angel drifted out of the shadows in his stealthy way and she smiled without turning her head. She was always able to sense him now, a weird buzzing that said "vampire" but was subtly different from other members of the undead. She glanced at him critically. His attire was slightly more formal with a black shirt under his coat but otherwise he didn't appear much different than usual. She glanced at the bouquet in his hand and smiled. "Is that for me?"

He looked embarrassed. "Uh, no. It's for your mother."

Her eyes widened. "You mean you're hitting on my mom, too? Boy, she's getting all the action around here. And everyone else wonders why I'm so testy lately."

Angel smiled at the fake hurt in her tone. "Seriously, Buffy. I thought your mother would like them. Plus it'd be a nice gesture. It looks better than arriving empty-handed." 

They were a block away from the house at 1630 Revello Drive and Buffy heaved a shaky breath. "I-it's not too late to turn back, you know. I can always make an excuse like you got sick or broke an ankle or…"

"It'll be okay, Buffy. You told your mother to take down and hide all the mirrors, right?"

"Yep. You sure you can handle the eating thing?" she asked.

"Relax. I told you; vampires can eat human food. We just don't get any nourishment from it. I'll be fine. I may have to throw up in the bathroom, though."

"Yikes. Really?" Seeing a sly grin flitting around his mouth, she swatted him on the arm. "Ha. Funny."

Angel was the soul of politeness and at another time Joyce would have appreciated the in-joke. Yet she couldn't help but remember that this was a vampire. The fact that Angel looked so normal was more bothersome than if he'd had horns or a tail. It was as if he was practicing a kind of deception. How many such creatures had she blithely passed in the streets at night without realizing what they were? How could she let something like that be familiar with her daughter?

Angel didn't display any of that familiarity this evening, thank goodness. He smiled at Buffy and their hands brushed a couple of times but affectionate displays were kept to a minimum. She couldn't help contrasting him with Ted, though. Ted with his wholesome, all-American, good-guy, ordinary looks and grace was a model boyfriend and she was feeling less guilty about having him around. 

"So, Angel. What is it you do, exactly?" Ted refused to sit down to the table, busying himself with bustling back and forth to the kitchen to bring food to the table—and a new question with each plate.

"I'm a research assistant for Mr. Giles, Buffy's librarian," Angel said, his tone smooth. Angel, Buffy and Joyce had decided this was the perfect cover story. It would explain Angel's closeness to Buffy and her friends, how they met and his "shyness." It would make sense that someone who worked in a library would be a bookworm and awkward with people.

Ted set a tray of biscuits on the table. "That sounds fascinating. I've always wished I were more book literate myself. Nice way to learn about the world without having to bother with pesky traveling. What kind of software do you use?"

Angel looked at Ted uncertainly. "Excuse me? Software?"

"You must do your cataloging on a computer somewhere. What system do you use?"

Buffy spoke up before Angel could make a major blunder. "Uh, they don't really need computers for what they do. Giles tends to keep it low tech." 

Ted wagged his finger at Angel. "That's a rather backward attitude to take. Here, take my card in case your Mr. Giles wants to come into the 20th century." Ted pressed the small rectangle into Angel's palm. Buffy's gaze sharpened as she saw the business card but Ted missed her and Angel's wordless exchange. "So, what kind of research _do_ you do?" 

"Arcane things, mostly. The study of old languages, translation of obscure texts, cataloging of esoteric books—those sorts of things. These are great biscuits, by the way, Mrs. Summers," Angel added. He'd actually only taken a little of the food. Anything other than blood tasted like cardboard to his vampire taste buds. He merely hoped to deflect the conversation into a safe area.

"I'd love to take the credit. But Ted actually baked them," Joyce said with a deferential smile. "In fact, he cooked everything you see on this table. He's a wonderful cook." She sighed and resumed eating her food with gusto.

"Really? I'm impressed, Ted. They're very good," Angel murmured.

"Well, when you've been a lonely bachelor as long as I've been, learning to cook is a necessity. Speaking of bachelors, I imagine a strapping fellow like you has no problem with the ladies," Ted hinted.

Angel didn't allow a single sign of unease to cross his face. "Not really. They're interested at first. Then I tell them what I do for a living and how little money I make at it and their eyes practically glaze over. The next thing I know, they're turning away and talking to some guy who says he's in the stock market or practicing law." 

Ted chuckled. "Ouch. I guess I'm lucky to be in computers. _Everybody's_ into those. But I wouldn't have thought a research assistant would be somebody to catch Buffy's eye."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy snapped. She realized how hostile she sounded when her mother frowned at her.

But Ted took it in his stride. "Well, your mother tells me you're not really a scholastic girl. You prefer hanging out with your other young friends." Ted placed a slight emphasis on the word "young." "You just don't seem the bookworm type. So I'm wondering how someone as youthful and pretty as you winds up with an older man who prefers dusty, musty old books as company."

"Angel's not that old," Buffy replied defensively.

"Beg to differ. You're only 16, right? And Angel's, what, 22, 23? I know a six-year gap isn't much. But you two seem poles apart. I'm just wondering how the two of you could get together like this."

"Well, Ted, you know how it is. It's that whole 'opposites attract' thing. Look at you and mom. She's into old stuff like antiques, Kabuki masks, Renaissance-y art and, and, other kinds of art. And you're about reboots and computer upgrades and all those Bill Gates-y modern-day geeky, I mean, tech-y things. Where's the connection? And yet, here you are, feeding us homemade biscuits." Buffy waved at the dinner, which she'd barely touched, and managed a feeble grin.

The computer salesman wasn't to be put off. "We're two adults. You're still a child, Buffy."

[A child? This child could kick your ass into the next street, buddy.] Buffy opened her mouth to snap out a retort when Joyce spoke up. 

"You know, Ted's right, Buffy," she said calmly as she buttered another roll. "No offense, Angel. But you are a bit old for her." Joyce gave him a pointed stare before she took a bite out of her doughy treat.

Buffy's face went pale as she stared at her mother. "H-he is? But, Mom, Angel's different. He's not like other guys. You _know_ that." 

Ted chimed in. "Of course he would seem special to _you_, Buffy. However, even you must admit it's a little worrisome to see a man of his age with a minor. Maybe I'm being old fashioned. But there should be rules for dating girls your age. If you were my daughter—"

"But I'm not. So let's not go rushing things, _Ted._" Buffy knew she was being unfriendly but it was getting impossible to be decent towards this guy. She leaned pointedly towards her mother. "Mom, may I be excused? I've got—homework and studying to do."

"Why'd you leave it so late?" Ted asked, his eyebrows raised.

Buffy shrugged. "I wanted to keep my weekend clutter free. So sue me." She stood up from the table and practically ran to her room. Angel followed and caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs. 

"Buffy, I think you're right about this Ted guy," he muttered, pitching his voice low so as not to catch his attention.

Her expression turned fiercely triumphant. "Aha! I knew it. He's a demon, isn't he?"

Angel's face was a study in caution and confusion. "No. I don't think so."

"But…? There's a but, isn't there? I can see it in your face."

"I can hear a heartbeat. But it's too regular. It doesn't fluctuate even the slightest bit. His body heat's at least a couple of degrees below what I'd call human temperature. He also doesn't smell."

Buffy couldn't hide her disappointment. "That's it? He's got no B.O. and he's running a low temp? I was hoping for something a little more on the solid-y side, Angel."

"I'm not talking about a stink. There's no distinct human smell about him. No soap, no aftershave, no hair care products, no human aroma at all. He doesn't project any emotions either. Somehow my inner senses are telling me he's not what he seems."

"Okay, so your vampy senses are tingling. That's not enough to go on." Buffy heard stirring in the living room. "I'd better get to my room. Meet me later." She kissed him once and darted quickly up the stairs. Once there, she packed for patrol although she never felt less like doing so. Would Ted stay with her mother while she was out? Would she come back from patrol and walk in on more kissing? Her stomach roiled when she thought about it. Pausing, she picked up her phone and called Willow.

"Willow? Hey, it's me." She listened with half an ear to the talk on the other end. "How'd things go? Not great. Ted got snitty defending my honor against my child-molesting boyfriend and my mom suddenly does a one eighty on me and decides Angel's not fit to be with me. It's like my boyfriend's suddenly no good now that she's got Peter Perfect. I mean, she's been jawing my ear off about Ted all week. 'Ted's so nice.' 'Ted wants to take us on a museum trip.' 'Ted's seen so much of the world. He wants to go with us to Montana!' I tell you, Wills, if I heard anything more about Ted, I was going to throw up."

She paused and listened to the gabble on the other end. "Angel? Well, he said he's not getting any human scent off him." There was a shorter pause. "No, Ted's not a demon but he isn't actually of the human species either. Can you run a background check on him?" She read the information off the business card Angel had slipped to her. "Yeah. Look into his record with his company and check for parking tickets, outstanding warrants for his arrest—you know, something juicy like that. Thanks, Wills. I'm heading out to patrol." 

She hung up the phone and halted, a sliver of ice sliding down her spine. She'd felt…for a moment she was certain she was being watched. She shot a glance towards the window but there was no one there. Then she walked as quietly to her door as she could and yanked it open. A quick peek into the hallway revealed no one and, after a moment's hesitation, she closed the door. 

__________

Willow's fingers tapped swiftly over the keys as she pulled up files on Ted. There was nothing much on him at work. He was indeed registered as an employee at the company stated on his business card so no surprises there. She'd have to go digging a little deeper. 

After half an hour, she was ready to give up. Darn, if this Ted Buchanan didn't lead a boring life. No outstanding parking tickets, bad credit records, bounced checks, unpaid utility bills, speeding tickets—not even so much as an overdue library book. She sat back and huffed, her fingers tapping on the desk. 

Maybe Buffy was just being paranoid. He _was_ a nice guy. But Angel had felt something off about him and Angel had been right about Billy Fordham. Yet so far there'd been nothing on Ted. So maybe she was looking in the wrong direction. Instead of searching for crimes, maybe she should just check out something completely ordinary…

Struck by an idea, Willow managed to hack into tax records. They were the boring but usual pieces of information, the sort of things that civilians always forgot about after awhile. Several files were pulled up. Willow idly looked at the spaces for marital status and her eyes widened. She went through different years and they all said the same thing. She snatched up the phone and hurriedly punched in Buffy's number. "Buffy? Buffy, are you there?" There was no answer but maybe Buffy was still on patrol. She guessed this news could wait; it wasn't going anywhere.

__________ 

Xander and Willow were arguing strenuously. Actually, only Willow was feeling the strain. Xander thought she was being way too tense about things and since when was being previously married a crime anyway? Willow was just about to argue the point when they saw Buffy slumped on a school bench staring listlessly at the ground. Willow ran up to her while Xander trailed behind, blissfully munching on a cookie.

"Buffy, there you are! You were right about Ted. I pulled up these files and found out he's been married like…" She trailed off as she noticed her friend's listless posture. "Buffy, a-are you all right? I tried calling you about this last night but nobody picked up the phone."

"Huh? Oh, I was either out patrolling or being arrested. Take your pick," she muttered.

"Being…?" Xander blinked and swallowed a mouthful of cookie. "Okay, either the sugar's gone to my head or she said something about being arrested. Or was that tested? You thinking about the upcoming test in history, Buff? Chill. Don't sweat it. Everything's going to be…"

"Xander, will you quit saying that!" Willow snapped. Honestly, what was wrong with him today? He didn't act as if he was interested in anything except those darned cookies. "Buffy, what's wrong?"

The blonde Slayer lifted her head and Willow was sobered by the blank shock and horror that was stamped on her face. "I killed Ted."

__________

Joyce had called in sick to work without giving them the reason. It seemed obscene to work after what had happened. How could Buffy have done it? She'd seen the horror on her daughter's face as Joyce leaned over Ted's lifeless body. It hadn't been intentional; she wanted to believe that. But how could she given Buffy's unrelenting assault on him right in front of her?

Joyce felt tears sting her eyes and dashed them angrily away. She could feel strange tremors throughout her body and her hands were shaking slightly…understandable given the circumstances. 

She should have talked more with Buffy about this; she should have said something before Buffy walked in on her kissing another man. Wasn't this very behavior what she'd been chastising her daughter for—hiding things until people learned the truth the hard way? Buffy hadn't been able to cope with the sudden revelation that her mother was a sexual person like anybody else and this was the result.

Joyce shook her head and stood up shakily. No, that was a terrible thing to think. It made it sound as if Buffy's attack on Ted had been premeditated, that her little girl had planned on killing this man and she refused to believe that.

The older Summers woman looked at the bottom of the stairs and shuddered. She could still see Ted's body lying there, lifeless and broken from his fall. Her daughter's white face loomed before her as she heard herself once more scream that Buffy had killed him. True, it had been in the heat of the moment but she'd never forget the wounded, hollow look in the eyes of her only child. 

They'd said nothing else to each other as Joyce had called an ambulance or when the Detective Stein had questioned her about Ted's supposed attack. The detective had been skeptical about Buffy's statement that Ted had assaulted her and Joyce understood Buffy's frustration that her daughter couldn't reveal the truth about her miraculous healing abilities. She had glimpsed the bruises on Buffy's face but they hadn't registered and, by the time the police had shown, the black and blue marks had vanished as if they'd never been.

Joyce had backed her daughter. She'd only seen the end of the fight, when Buffy had repeatedly hit Ted, and wasn't sure events had happened as Buffy had claimed. Yet, in the police station, she had taken her daughter's side. She'd been running on autopilot and confirming Buffy's side of the story had been automatic. Now she was secretly wondering if that had been the right thing to do.

It was odd—after the initial shock, she had been curiously numb and distant as if she couldn't summon the energy to be grief-stricken or sick. That was a natural reaction, she supposed. However, the lethargy had worn off by the time they came home. Buffy had sunk into herself and Joyce had found herself worrying about the grim silence. Where were the explanations, the remorse? Was Buffy even sorry that she'd taken a life? When Buffy trudged up the stairs, Joyce had asked, "Where are you going?"

"I-I'm going out—t-to patrol. I can't stay here in this house, m-my room. I have to get out of here."

"No, Buffy. You shouldn't be out, not in your frame of mind. Why don't you get Angel to…"

"I can't call him. He doesn't have a phone," Buffy replied, tiredly. 

"He doesn't? Well, then, call the others. Surely they can fill in for you."

"And what excuse do I give? 'Guys, I'm not in the mood for slayage on account of I killed somebody?' I can't tell them that—not yet." Buffy hugged herself hard. When Joyce looked closer, she could see that Buffy was shivering.

"I still don't think you should go out."

"Why not? I already did. That's how Ted and I got into a fight," Buffy muttered.

"You were patrolling? I thought you were doing your homework."

"That's what I told him. Couldn't tell him the truth, could I? When I came back he was in my room reading my diary."

"Is that why you attacked him? Because he was going through your things?" Joyce said. She realized a second later how cold this sounded. 

Buffy's lips thinned as she reacted to the implied and overt accusation. "I _didn't_ attack him. He talked about taking it and showing it to you, about getting me locked up in a psych ward. He meant to use it as a trick to get me away from you so the two of you could get together without me in the picture."

"He was going to do that?" That didn't sound like the Ted she knew. "But what was—" Joyce stopped as she considered what Buffy would have written about to make her sound like a candidate for the loony bin. "The slaying. That's what's in your diary?"

"Mostly, yeah."

That still didn't explain how she'd wound up throwing Ted down a flight of stairs. "But I know all about that! It wouldn't have made any difference if he'd shown it to me."

"I know. It-it's just…" Buffy paused and drew a deep breath. "He talked about having me sent away and he was touching my th-things. When he tried to take my diary, I told him he wasn't leaving with it and when I grabbed him—"

"You grabbed him? I thought you said he attacked you!" Buffy hadn't told her this and she hadn't mentioned it to the detective either. 

"He did! He told me to let go, I refused a-and then he smacked me across the room. Really hard. Way too hard for somebody human," Buffy added. 

Joyce's gaze sharpened. "Human? Buffy, what are you talking about?"

"It's something Angel said. He said Ted doesn't have any human smell to him or any emotions. He was getting this non-human vibe from him all evening."

"Non-? Buffy, are you serious? What are you trying to tell me? That Angel found out Ted's some kind of demon?"

"N-no. Angel just thought he was off. I'd been feeling that, too, and, after being a Slayer for so long, I've learned to trust my instincts," Buffy said. She tried to sound sure of herself but she knew she wasn't pulling it off.

"Really? Because he seemed mortal and frail enough to me after you threw him—" Seeing Buffy's stricken look, Joyce wiped her hand over her face. "Why didn't you just call for help?"

"I-I thought I could handle it, that Ted wasn't…I didn't expect him to try to steal from me or hit me! It just threw me that he was in my room at all." What Buffy couldn't tell her was that Ted had overheard her talking to Willow about investigating him, that his rummaging through her things and reading of her diary had been an attempt to get dirt on her like she was trying to dig up on him. Without that part of the story, everything pointed to Buffy as the bad guy here. "Mom, don't you get it? He hit me first and then he was smacking me around the room…"

"So _that_ was true?" Joyce ventured.

Buffy gaped at her. "You thought I was lying about that? Mom, he tried to kill me!"

"Buffy, all I saw was that you kept on hitting Ted even after I yelled at you to stop. It was like you were in a blind rage. Didn't you hear me?"

"It's…he was hurting me and all of a sudden I was just so pissed off and when things are pounding me, I don't run, scream or s-stop. I just keep on fighting until…" Buffy bit her lip and looked down at the floor.

"Until they're dead," Joyce finished. "But, Buffy, don't you see? Ted wasn't a thing; he was a person. And now he's dead because you couldn't make yourself stop." 

__________

Buffy finished talking and for a moment neither of her friends spoke. Then Willow asked, "What did you say then, Buffy?"

"Nothing. What could I say? She was right. I was totally out of control. It was like all I could think of was punching in Ted's big fat face."

"Oh, man. This is such a downer. It's totally wrecking my morning happy," Xander said gloomily. He fished out another cookie and Willow swatted it out of his hand. "Hey, watch it! I was gonna to eat that!"

"Xander, how about focusing on real emotional pain, here?" She turned to the dejected girl. "Buffy, you're being too hard on yourself. Doesn't your mother get that Ted started it?" Willow asked.

Buffy shook her head. "That defense only works in six-year-old court, Will." 

"But you're not guilty! You didn't set out to kill this guy! It was self-defense. You said he was in your room, going through your things. That's invasion of privacy and, and, so not right!"

"Sorta like what you were doing to him, Willow? That's still no excuse for punching him over and over and knocking him down a flight of stairs." Buffy got up and Willow belatedly remembered what she'd had to tell her.

"Buffy, wait! I found out something on the Internet last night. You've got to see this. Come on, Cookie Monster." She hurried off to the school library while Xander mumbled around another cookie.

"I am in no way like the Cookie Monster. For one thing, I have hardly any body hair. Wow, did I just say that out loud?" Xander chuckled while Willow rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Giles was saying goodbye to a strange man when Buffy and the others came up to him. Willow peered after the departing figure. "Giles, who was that?"

"Hmm? Oh, h-he was from the police department. They're going a-around, asking questions about B-Buffy's behavior and all that. N-naturally, I told them…" He ran his hand through his hair, his agitation evident. "Buffy, are you all right?" Seeing the strained expression on her ashen face, he muttered, "Sorry. Silly question, of course."

Willow shooed them all into the library. "Giles, I found out something about Ted. Buffy asked me to do some digging and I came up with these." She spread the sheets onto the library table.

Giles picked up one and examined it. "A marriage license? This is rather innocuous."

"I'll say," Buffy responded. "Or I would if I knew what 'innocuous' meant."

"It means harmless or innocent. In this case, I fail to see what's so terrible about the fact that Mr. Buchanan has been married—" Giles slid his glance over the other papers. "Good Lord. Four times? That's rather excessive, isn't it? Even for an American. And how did you get these any way?"

"I hacked into these files to pull up tax records."

"Oh dear." Giles pulled off his glasses and began the tedious business of polishing them. "More illegal computer activity, I suppose?"

"Uh yeah," Willow replied sheepishly. "Anyway, back to Ted. He's had four marriages and not a single divorce among 'em and the records all show them living at the same address. And Teddy must have married young 'cause the earliest one is in 1957 which makes him really good looking for his age or he was forced into a shotgun marriage when he was, like, six."

"Wonder if that's how he learned how to cook—being exposed to all those womenfolk," Xander responded, taking another bite of cookie.

Willow peered at him. "Xander, do you have food on the brain or something? Buffy's in serious trouble here and our Teddy's turning out to be some kind of serial marrying guy and all you can think about is stuffing your face."

Buffy was equally upset at her friend's uncaring attitude. "Where did you get those things anyway? Your mom's not what I would call Suzy Homemaker."

"Ted gave 'em to me day before yesterday. Said he wanted to make up for lack of picnic taking." Xander took another bite and held one out to Giles. "Cookie, G-man?"

"Xander, I must agree with Willow. Your attitude is hardly appropriate considering Buffy's dilemma," Giles said, a frown creasing his forehead.

"I'm just thinking we should all relax. Our gal Wills is on it. Worrying is not going to solve anything." Xander ruffled Willow's hair. 

Willow snatched at the bag of cookies, pulling one out and looking it over thoughtfully. "Buffy, I think you should get back home. The place is crawling with cops and m-maybe you should keep a low profile 'till this all blows over. I need to take these to my chem class." She held up the bag of cookies and Xander grabbed at them, protesting the loss of his sugary, chocolate-y treat.

"Hey, no way! Get your own cookies!"

"Just one then," she amended, keeping hold of her pilfered prize.

"I can't just hole up and hide," Buffy protested. "What about the slaying?"

"I-I can handle that. If Angel is willing, perhaps he could accompany me," Giles added.

"Oh. Good idea. I guess everybody's covered then," Buffy stated morosely.

"Y-yes. Quite. Given the police presence on campus, it would be best if you were to vacate the premises until we've cleared up the enigma of Mr. Buchanan and his multiple marital relationships."

"Whatever you say, G-man—whatever it was you said," Xander replied with a shrug.

Giles spoke with asperity. "What I said was—"

"Relax! Just teasing. Man, you have got to learn to take a joke," Xander responded, noshing on another cookie.

__________

Willow looked surreptitiously into her microscope. She was supposed to be watching the progress of a catalyst but what she was seeing now was far more interesting. Xander scooted over and whispered, "So what have we got?"

"Well, the secret ingredient isn't love. I'm not sure but I think it's Dematorin."

"Demerol?" Xander said. He licked his lips. They felt dry. Maybe he was just craving another cookie. Willow's sharp voice drew him back to the mystery at hand.

"NO. Dematorin. It's a kind of tranquilizer, keeps you all mellow and compliant. It explains Mrs. Summers's happy happy joy joy attitude all week and you practically drooling over Ted."

"You were drooling over him as much as I was!" Willow shushed him and Xander lowered his voice again. "So Ted has been doping us up and playing the Mormon. That is so uncool," Xander whispered back. "What do we do now? Bring this in to the cops?"

"Not sure they'd care. After all, he _is_ the victim. They might not listen about our finding this out now that he's dead. First I want to find out what happened with all those Mrs. Ted Buchanans," Willow whispered. "Those marriage certificates all had the same address on them. I say after school, we take a ride over there and see what's what."

"How do we do that? Giles is going cemetery hopping with tall and lifeless. Where are we gonna get wheels?" Xander returned.

Willow sighed. "Much as I hate the idea, why not ask Cordelia?" 

Xander scrunched up his face. "Nuh uh. She's still bitching over her shoe loss and wet seats from when Kendra was here. You'd think somebody died in her car the way she went on."

"So who else should we ask? Jenny Calendar?" Willow asked. 

Xander stared at her. "You're brilliant, Wills. I knew you'd come up with something. You're her fave, numero uno student and she knows about the slaying. So you could ask her and we can take off after school."

Willow beamed at the compliment and was about to respond when the teacher noticed their lack of attention and spoke sharply to them. "Ms. Rosenberg. Mr. Harris. Is there something you want to share with the class?"

Xander grinned feebly and held up the bag of forbidden snack treats. "Uh, cookie?"

__________

Joyce poured herself a glass of water and drank thirstily. Her mouth was so dry; for the last few hours she hadn't been able to stay away from the faucet. She wondered if that was the aftereffects of shock kicking in. She hadn't thought they included dehydration. 

Buffy had come home mumbling about the cops roaming through the school interrogating the students and faculty. She could just imagine what that rotten Principal Snyder would have told them. But what if they had a point?

She'd never thought of Buffy as being particularly violent. She'd insisted on thinking of her as this tiny, fragile girl who needed her friends and Angel to protect her. Joyce had thought the calling of the Slayer such a cruel one because her daughter and countless other girls throughout the ages were doomed to die young. She'd never considered any adverse effects it might have on Buffy herself other than an early death. But perhaps the slaying had changed her daughter, made her so vicious and dangerous she was capable of taking human life. 

Was she a rotten mother for allowing this to continue? She'd asked herself that over and over again since she found out about this, thinking only of the inevitable outcome for Buffy if she permitted her to go on in this eternal struggle against evil. For the first time, she realized the danger Buffy posed to innocent people at large. "Poor Ted," she whispered.

"Joyce," said a familiar voice. Joyce spun around and the glass dropped from her nerveless fingers. For the second time in a week a glass shattered on the kitchen tiles. 

Ted stood before her beaming, remarkably whole and well considering his ordeal. "It's so nice to know you care."

She backed up until her back was against the sink. "T-Ted? Y-you're…how is this…?"

He became sober at once. The sad expression after his earlier happy greeting didn't jibe and Joyce wondered if his mind had been affected by the fall. "They said I must've been dead for six minutes. They said any longer and it would've caused brain damage."

"O-of course. That must have been it." [No, Joyce, think!] She'd heard about people being trapped under the ice for an hour who'd been revived. But the brain couldn't survive for more than four minutes without oxygen without incurring severe brain trauma. She'd read that somewhere. There was also no way he could have survived a fall like that if he were an ordinary person and she remembered what Buffy had told her about Ted being other than human. She managed a tremulous smile. "T-this is so wonderful, Ted. But why didn't they tell us?"

"Nobody knew! They took me to the morgue. I was unconscious for almost a day. An intern found me. It's a miracle, Joyce. A miracle." He opened his arms and gathered her to him for a massive bear hug.

Joyce hugged him back, hiding her anxious face against Ted's shirt. His story didn't ring true. He was lying to her and that meant that Buffy had been right in her suspicions. She had to lull him into a false sense of security so she could get Buffy. If Ted was really a monster, she stood no chance against him. "Do you want to sit down? You had a really bad fall. You should rest."

He grinned again and she felt her flesh crawl. "I've never been better! Besides, I've spent a whole day resting. I'm fit as a fiddle and want a little gravy with that?"

Joyce stuttered, "W-what? Ted, I'm concerned about you. Did you let the doctors examine you? You may be concussed or bleeding inside. You really should sit down."

"And you really should stop telling me what to do!" His hands flew to her arms and she gasped as they tightened painfully. "I don't take orders from women! I'm not wired that way!" His face twitched spastically and Joyce could distinctly hear the whirring of—gears? 

"All right, Ted. But I'd like a drink. You know, to c-celebrate your return." Joyce smiled again but she could tell she was having no impact on him. 

Ted's face went curiously blank as he spoke. "We really should be hitting the road."

"Hitting the road?" Joyce listened in mounting horror as Ted or whatever he was jerkily outlined his plans to spirit her away, how she didn't need to pack because he had everything she'd ever need or want. Oh god, he was some creepy serial killer who abducted women and hid them in a hole somewhere; she just knew it. Buffy had been right not to trust him. And where was Buffy? There was an eerie silence from upstairs and Joyce fought the increasing panic surging inside her.

"Fine. But I'd prefer to pack my own things, Ted. After all, you've known me less than a month. You don't really know my style." She tried to move only to find his grip didn't loosen at all. "Ted, let go, please." When he started pulling her towards the front door, she raised one shoe and dragged it down the entire front of his shin and stomped hard on his instep. Buffy had demonstrated a few basic moves of self defense once she decided her mother could handle it and she had recommended this one as a sure-fire way to cripple an attacker.

Evidently it made little or no impression on a man who'd survived a fall down a flight of stairs. Ted shoved her hard into a wall and she smacked into it and lost consciousness.

_"Mom?"_ The girl's voice was anxious, afraid. Why was she afraid?

_"Mom?"_ The voice became annoyingly loud and the throbbing in her head got worse as the girl continued to needle her. She didn't want to wake up but she knew she'd have to in order to stop that talking.

"Mom, can you hear me?" 

Wait, she knew that voice. "Buffy?" Her throat hurt and her voice came out as a dry croak. Her lips were parched, too. She opened her eyes and focused blearily on the fuzzy face she could just make out hovering over her. "Water," she rasped.

"Mom, you're okay!" The voice got louder in its relief and Joyce Summers flinched, both from the light and her daughter's cry. 

"Buffy? Oh, my head. What happened?" Suddenly her memory came rushing back and she struggled to sit up. "Ted! He came back…"

"I know. But I think his batteries finally ran down." Her eyes focused on Buffy's face and she followed her daughter's gaze. Lying in a twisted pose was Ted's body. She swallowed as she saw the ruin of his face—metal and wires exposed by ripped flesh, the eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

"Buffy, what—? Is that what I think that is?"

"Yep. Ted was a robo boy. Explains the super strength," Buffy replied matter-of-factly. "But I showed him he's not the only one who knows his way around a skillet." She pointed to the iron saucepan lying on the floor next to him.

"Oh, thank god." Joyce squeezed her hard. "I was going to get you but he grabbed me. He was planning on hiding me away somewhere."

Buffy returned the hug. "I would have found you, Mom. No worries."

Joyce pulled back and stared in her daughter's face. She didn't want to say this but she wanted everything between herself and Buffy to be all right again. "Honey, I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Hey, you didn't know Ted was doing a Terminator deal. Even I didn't see that one coming. Chalk up a new experience for the Slayer," Buffy smirked.

"No, I mean about killing him. I-I thought it was deliberate, that you hated Ted without reason and wanted to…"

"Oh." Buffy didn't know what to say about that. For several hours, she had doubted herself, horrified at what she'd let herself do. Her friends had supported her but that hadn't made her feel any better. The fact that it had turned out all right in the end wasn't necessarily reassuring. Well, if her mom could be confess-y, so could she. "I-I did hate him. But I think I just hated the idea of him. Part of me—a very itty-bitty part—still wants things back the way they were before: you, me, dad, no slaying. But I've accepted the idea that my life has changed. I just expected you to be part of it that didn't. Guess that was pretty selfish of me, huh?"

"Selfish but human. Kids want stability in their lives and parents are supposed to be it." She tilted up Buffy's chin so her daughter had to look her in the face. "But, Buffy, you have to understand. I'm a person just like anybody else. My sex drive didn't just dry up and die when your father and I got divorced. I mean, look at him, jetting around the world with his secretary…"

Buffy held up her hand. "Okay, stop. That's a little too much truth for me in one day. So not wanting to think about my mom and dad getting groin-y with other people." 

Her mother smiled and conceded the point. "Well, don't worry about me. I may not date again for a long time—if ever. So what do we do about…?" Joyce gestured at the scrap pile that had been Ted Buchanan and Buffy considered it for a moment.

"Well, we can't bring in Sunnydale's Finest. There is no way we could explain _this. _But I know one super brainy redhead who'd be just thrilled to have an oversized Ken doll of her very own to play with." The phone in the hall rang and both women jumped. "I'll get that," Buffy said. "Can you get up by yourself?"

"I think so." Joyce tried to stand and then slumped back as the room swayed alarmingly. "Then again, maybe not." Buffy helped to prop up her weight and she'd never been so grateful for her daughter's Slayer strength. She was deposited in a chair in the living room, out of sight of the hateful robot, and Buffy ran to answer the phone. Joyce rested her head wearily on her arm and hoped Buffy remembered to get the water.

Buffy came walking back in, a full glass in her hand. "Mom, that was Willow. You will never guess what she and Xander found out."

"Is it better than our surprise?" Joyce said wryly, pausing to sip from her glass. 

"Not quite but it explains a few things. Seems our Ted here isn't the original."

"You mean there's another version out there?" Joyce asked. The thought that there might be another Tedbot preying on helpless women made her angry and terrified at once. Would it come after her as this one had?

"No, an original as in the human version. He died ages ago. He was sickly and his wife left him. I'm thinking he figured it was 'cause he wasn't good enough. So he must have built himself a better, stronger upgrade: Ted 2.0. After the real Ted Buchanan died, this one decided to get his wife back…only it kept on doing it over and over again."

Joyce took another sip before she spoke again. "Yes, Ted said that I left him but he kept bringing me back. He said a husband and wife is forever."

Buffy screwed her face up. "I guess they weren't big on divorce or desertion in the 1950s when Teddy #1 got hitched. Brings a whole new meaning to 'till death do us part.' "

"Goodness. The 1950s? And this Ted has been doing this since then?" 

Buffy nodded. "They found his cozy little love nest—complete with the bodies of his other four wives."

Joyce's mouth went dry again and she took a big gulp of liquid. "How soon can Willow get here so we can get rid of that thing?"

"They're zipping back as we speak. They called from a fast food place. Evidently, they had to stop for Slushies because Xander is suffering from a serious case of dry mouth. Seems the Tedbot was slipping a little something extra into everybody's food to make them his willing zombie slaves. Parchedness is one of the side effects."

"So that's it!" Joyce looked at her nearly empty glass of water and grimaced. "That bastard. Well, that makes me feel a little better for being so blind about him. Not much but a little." She finished the water and set the glass down on the table. "Guess I'd better throw out that lasagna he brought over earlier this week. And the brownies. And the cupcakes. And the noodle surprise."

"Wow, for a man who hated the idea of being bossed around by women, he sure had a joneses for cooking, didn't he?" Buffy commented.

"Well, how else was he going to drug us? But I'm afraid that leaves us with nothing to eat until I'm steadier on my feet."

"That's okay. Just sit back and I'll make us something."

Joyce recalled some of her daughter's previous cooking fiascos and restrained herself from shuddering. "No. You know what? Not really hungry. What say we just sack out on the couch and watch TV? Or maybe we can rent a video?" She stood more carefully this time and was relieved to see the room stayed in one place. 

"TV viewage it is. Whaddaya want to see?"

"Nothing with horror. Or romance. Or men," Joyce stated with emphasis.

"That doesn't leave much 'cept maybe cartoons. And Xena Warrior Princess," Buffy added reflectively.

"Girl-on-girl bonding. Even better. Bring on the flying chakrams."

TBC


	8. The Vaida

Xander was pacing around, practicing mock feints in the air with his stake. Willow sat on the grave of one Ernest Spedlinger, dead thirty years. Actually, she sat on her jacket on the grave, a little squeamish about getting dirt on her clothes. On one side were her weapons of choice: a couple of stakes and a large cross. On the other was her book bag. She held her history book and queried her blonde friend. "Buffy, you know this. Who were our enemies during WWII?"

"Um. Germany, Italy aaand…" Buffy's brows wrinkled then she puffed out her lips, exasperation overtaking her scholastic efforts. "Arghhh! Why can't I ever remember that last one?"

"It's Japan," Willow informed her.

"I knew that," Buffy replied huffily. "I just don't remember it."

Xander made a swipe at an imaginary foe. "I don't see Germans and Italians hooking up with the Japanese. They don't even eat the same kinds of food. Where's the cultural mesh?"

"Exactly!" Buffy ejaculated. "How are we expected to remember stuff like that when there's nothing that relates one non-related thing to the other non-related thing?"

"Well, there's a little mnemonic device I use when I'm stumped," the redhead offered.

Buffy's face went blank. "Pneumonia what?"

"Mne-mon-ic," Willow repeated, enunciating every syllable. "It's a trick you use to help remember things. I think of G.I. Joe."

"The little soldier doll with the kung fu grip? What kind of toys did _you_ play with when you were growing up, Wills, and how come I never saw 'em? I thought we were bestest buds. You're supposed to share!" Xander pretended to whine.

"Ha ha. I don't mean the doll, just the name. G.I. Joe is a soldiery doll. Soldiers mean war. War equals World War II. The G, I, J stands for Germany, Italy…"

"Japan!" Buffy exclaimed, catching onto the idea. "Wow, that _does_ work. And here I thought all your good grades came from big brains. It's all just student A tricks, isn't it?" Buffy clucked her tongue in mock disapproval.

"Actually, I'm really a cyborg with a computer chip for a brain," the red-haired girl intoned in a mechanical voice a la Arnold Schwarzenegger.

"Huh. Somebody's been spending too much time with one Xander Harris," Buffy said.

"And that's a bad thing?" Xander asked. "I see it as adding valuable cultural data to her schooling. All school and no play makes Wills a dull girl."

"You think my intelligence make me dull?" Willow asked, sounding hurt.

Xander backpedaled as he realized his unintentional offense. "No, that's not what I meant! I just think rounding out book learning with meaningless pop trivia is necessary for every healthy, growing teenager."

"That's why I decided to have a night out with my bestest friends—in a dirty graveyard," Willow finished, grimacing as she shifted on the grave. Then her eyes widened and she waved her hand frantically at something behind Buffy. "Buffy, look out!"

"I hear him." Buffy spun her stake between her fingers as the vampire at her back clawed his way up from his newly made grave. Barely allowing him to stagger upright, she pivoted and drove the stake into his chest in one fluid move. "Now where were we?"

"World War II," Willow replied, tapping her pen on her notebook.

"I wonder what Angel was doing 'round that time." Conversation about the past always tended to draw Buffy's mind back to her 240-odd-year-old creature-of-the-night boyfriend.

Willow heard Buffy's wistfulness. "Now that I think about it, how come you're not doing this with Angel? He'd be way better at helping you with history lessons than me seeing as he was around for over two centuries of it."

"Well, after the Ted fiasco, I thought I'd show mom a little support by spending more time with her and my friends and less with my undead boyfriend. She's nursing some serious wounds over dating the robotics world's answer to Bluebeard," Buffy replied, her tone rather wry.

"Good for her. Spending time with human, breathing friends instead of undead fiends is also a part of a healthy diet," Xander quipped.

"Well, my undead fiend was the one who fingered Ted as being of the not-human persuasion," Buffy pointed out.

"Angel fingered Ted? I wouldn't have thought robots were his thing," Xander joked.

"The way demons are your thing, Xander?" Buffy replied sweetly. Dismissing his scowl, she then glanced at Willow's book, trying to get a peek at the answers. "So I got the G.I. Joe thing, Willow. Anything else I should know?"

"Vampires. Lots of 'em. Headed this way," Willow bleated while scrambling up from the ground.

Buffy sighed as she gripped her stake. "Studying _and_ vampire slayage. I wonder how the hell Kendra managed it."

It was easy to keep up the pretense that nowadays she lived only for slaying, homework, friendship bonding and her mom. But she was a normal, teenaged girl with normal, teenaged girl needs. And what Buffy needed was her boyfriend. She and Angel had stepped up their relationship from shy kisses to full-on body groping and caresses. She'd spent hours at night at his place after patrols, either getting patched up from some injury or simply talking about her day. She didn't tell anyone about these nocturnal visits, especially not her mom. Why worry her mother needlessly?

Besides, she was angling for a driver's license and wanted to impress her mother with her sense of responsibility. Having midnight smoochies with her undead boyfriend wouldn't go far towards giving that impression, would it? But she loved Angel. Sometimes she thought life would be unbearable if she couldn't have him by her side.

Thinking that he was waiting for her now, she hurried her pace and jogged to meet him. If Willow or Xander called her mother's house and didn't find her, she could say she met with some vampires on the way home. It pricked her conscience to deceive her friends like this. But she didn't want to tell Willow the truth because then she would spill the beans to Xander and she didn't want to hear Xander's nasty comments about Angel accidentally-on-purpose blurted out in front of her mom.

Buffy sighed unhappily. Sometimes it seemed as if the only person who knew her completely was Angel. At least she didn't have to lie to him. Shaking her head, she continued along the street towards his apartment.

The woman sitting in the car watched the blonde girl as she ran obliviously to her boyfriend. Jenny Calendar had made it a point to find out where Buffy Summers lived and she was certain the direction she was taking was nowhere near it. Of course, the Slayer could have been merely making the rounds of cemeteries. But what was she doing on the streets instead of taking a shortcut through Sunnydale's many graveyards? Pondering the implications of the girl's furtive movements, the teacher waited until the petite Slayer was out of sight and then quietly started up her car and drove home.

Willow hummed tunelessly to herself as she gathered up her materials in computer class the next day. The redhead seemed to possess boundless energy; she was glad of that, otherwise it would have been next to impossible to keep up with Buffy.

Last night had been exciting and it had provided a nice change from the Ted mess. When they'd investigated Ted's underground hideaway, Xander had accidentally stumbled on the remains of Ted's previous spouses. She hadn't seen what Xander had; he'd shut the closet door too quickly for that. But she could still recall his tight-lipped, ashen face before he'd lapsed into his customary joking.

She didn't mind Xander's jokes most days. She knew they were a genuine part of his open, sunny personality and she really appreciated them. But she also knew how the humor was often a cover for the misery provided by his unhappy domestic life and seeing the bodies of four women killed by a husband who supposedly loved them must have hit him hard. She knew more about his home life than anybody else and at times she wished he'd drop the clown act and let her comfort him.

[Not in a girlfriend kissy kind of way 'cause God forbid Xander should get his head out of the sand and think of me like that. But I could give him best friend hugs. Nothing wrong with that, is there?] She sighed over Xander for the umpteenth time and turned to leave.

"Oh, Willow?"

She turned back and smiled. "Uh, yes, Ms. Calendar?" Willow had no trouble getting along with her teachers. Her big brains made sure of that. She was smart _and_ eager to learn which had made her a teacher's pet since she was in kindergarten. But she'd gotten really close to Ms. Calendar since having found her niche with computer knowledge.

"I wanted to talk to you for a bit." Ms. Calendar closed the door. "It-it's about those dead bodies we found."

Willow's cheery mood vanished. "Oh, yeah. Those."

"Those poor women. What did the police have to say about them?"

"Well, that's the funny thing. Once the police realized they were dealing with your average, basic serial killer, they put out an APB on Ted. See, the guys at the morgue reported that Ted just up and walked away after he was pronounced dead so the cops think he's alive. So Buffy's off the hook with that and they don't think she's a killer any more; they think she was acting in self-defense and protecting herself. But now they know Ted is a mass murderer so they posted warrants for his capture and arrest. Only they don't know he's a robot and Buffy destroyed him so they'll probably still think he's at large somewhere and that all works out great for us. One more Sunnydale murder mystery wrapped up even if the police are still clueless."

Jenny blinked at the rapid onslaught of words and Willow grinned feebly. "Sorry. When I'm excited, I babble."

"I see," the dark-haired woman murmured in response. "I'm glad Buffy and her mother got out of it safely. And you say Ru—Mr. Giles was patrolling with Angel while Buffy was at home?"

"Yup. All the bases were covered. Is-is that what you really wanted to know? How Giles was doing? 'Cause he'd be happy to tell you all about it if you ask him." Willow peered at the teacher as she spoke. She knew things between the pretty computer teacher and the librarian were strained since Jenny had seen a glimpse of the awfulness of Giles's past. She could have done without that trip to Giles's ugly side herself. Seeing where tampering with the forces of darkness led had shaken Willow. She hoped that never happened to her.

But, if Ms. Calendar was curious about Giles, maybe that meant the teacher might be calling off the great chill. Or at least experiencing a kind of thaw. She hated the thought of all the adults around her keeping away from romance just because the Hellmouth threw wackiness at them.

However, the teacher's next words were noncommittal. "We'll see what happens. Giles and I need to take things—slow." She picked up her opened purse. In her hurry to close it, a small necklace fell out onto the floor.

Willow was quicker than Jenny to scoop it up and she stared curiously at the design before Jenny gently plucked it from her hand. "Oh, that's pretty. I've never seen anything like it. Was that an eye covered by a vine?"

"Old trinket I picked up at an outdoor flea market," Jenny replied shortly. The older woman then tucked it into her bag without another word and sat down at her desk. The students for the next class began trickling in, forcing the inquisitive redhead to leave before she could question her further.

Leaving the class, she decided to take a swift detour to the library. She found Giles poring over his latest acquisition of books with a concentrated air, thought wrinkles furrowing his brows. His glasses were dangling by one handle from his lips as he read, giving his face an open, unguarded look it didn't often wear. He really was cute; she occasionally wished she were older so he'd take an interest in her. Shaking her head, she padded over to him. "Must be a real page turner."

He started, nearly dropping his glasses. Fitting them back on his head, he stammered, "W-Willow. I didn't hear you come in. Was there something you wanted? Buffy's not here if you were looking for her."

"Oh, I didn't want Buffy. I-I was looking for you, actually."

He raised his eyebrows and closed the book. She barely caught a glimpse of the cover but it seemed to feature an anonymous nasty looking demon. Memories of Moloch rose to taunt her before she pushed them down. Giles was speaking and she concentrated on his answer. "Yes? Was there a problem that needed addressing?"

"Um, not with me." Now that she was here, she wondered if this was such a good idea. She shuffled from one foot to the other and blurted out, "H-have you patched things up with M-Ms. Calendar?"

Giles reddened faintly. "M-Ms. Calendar was rather shaken by the glimpse she had of my past and I-I can't say I blame her. Her life was placed in danger and all because of heinous, reckless behavior I committed in my regrettable youth. Frankly, I shouldn't wonder if she never spoke to me again."

Gosh, the guy was really hurting. Oh, he was doing that stiff-upper-lippy thing the English did but she could hear the longing underneath it. She cleared her throat and said, "Well, I-I'm thinking she may be not so much of the stubborn about that, Giles. She was asking where you were when we were tracking down Ted's hidey-hole. I-I got the feeling she was really interested."

An optimistic expression flickered over his face. "Really? W-what did she say exactly?"

"Uh…" Now that she thought about it, all that Jenny had done was to ask where Giles was. That was pretty much it. She seized on Jenny's other words. "She said you needed to take things slow. But taking things slow means taking things—somewhere, doesn't it? A-as opposed to not taking things anywhere at all. I mean, there's cause for hope, right?"

He didn't look particularly hopeful. But he could see this meant something to Willow so he tried not to disillusion her. "Yes, I suppose so."

She shuffled once more. "Maybe you could try again."

"Perhaps I should wait for her to make the first move. S-she's a very independent, forward-thinking woman. I'm sure she'd have no problems with making her wishes known if that's how she feels. However, I told her I'd give her space so I'm not going to push matters. Now it's up to her." Having felt he'd made his point, he turned his back to her and made a busy show of putting the books away.

Willow sighed and decided to let it go. Maybe she was sticking her nose in where it wasn't wanted. What did she know about romance anyway? Exiting the library, she bumped into a short, dark-haired boy. "Oops! I'm sorry!" she exclaimed as he dropped his books.

"No big." He bent to pick them up and she knelt with him. Pausing to give them back, her eyes widened.

"Oh! I know you. You're the guy I met during Career Week! You're—Oz, right?"

"You remembered. And you're Willow." He extended his hand and she shook it, distractedly noting his fingernails were painted dark blue. "Uh, I wanted my book."

"Oh, right." She blushed and handed it back to him. She snuck a look at the cover. "How to Get Music Gigs Without an Agent. Does this have to do with that diminished thingy you were talking about?"

"Yeah. Devon's thinking of taking our act on the road after we leave high school and I want to make sure we don't get screwed over. It's a shark-eat-shark world out there for us up-and-coming musicians."

"You've no idea," Willow muttered.

Oz quirked an eyebrow. "How's that?"

"Uh, nothing." She smiled feebly and prepared to get to her next class.

He hurried after her. "Say, if you're not doing anything after school tomorrow, you wanna come to the Bronze? We're performing there. I can stand you dinner afterwards if the manager pays us this time. Nothing fancy. Strictly fast food but I can promise there'll be condiments."

"The Bronze? You'll be playing?" Willow squeaked. "And y-you want me to come? Uh…"

"Hey, no pressure. You don't have to eat with me afterwards if you don't want. You can just come any way. I-I'd just like to see you there, you know. Lending support, that kind of thing."

"Sure!" She gulped. "W-when should I come?"

"Eight's good. See you there, then?" He smiled and walked off to class, leaving a dazed Willow in his wake.

"Oh boy," she mumbled. "Did I just get a date?"

Jenny Calendar fumbled with the keys to her apartment, balancing the homework she had in her other arm. Making sure the door was locked behind her, she dropped the keys on the hallway shelf and flicked on the light. She wandered to the living room and plopped the papers onto the broad table.

"Janna. It's good to see you." The deep, considered voice came from her right and Jenny started in fright, swinging around to see the figure partially shrouded in shadow.

"Uncle Enyos? I-I wasn't expecting you."

The tall man seated in the armchair stood up, a slight disapproving frown on his face. "Indeed. I haven't heard from you in quite some time, Janna."

"I-I know. I'm sorry I haven't been making reports as often as I should have. I've been busy." She didn't want to have this conversation now when she was tired. She was at a disadvantage and she was certain her uncle knew it.

"Busy? What could make you so preoccupied you would forget your duty to your people?"

"I wasn't preoccupied. I just have obligations and responsibilities. This job…"

"This job is meaningless. It is merely a ruse to stay close to the Evil One, remember? You think you are this person, this _gadje_ Jenny Calendar?" Enyos said, his contempt clear as he dismissed the paperwork on the table. "You are Janna of the Kalderash people. You must never forget that, just as you must never forget what your mission is."

Jenny's jaw clenched. She hated how defensive she got whenever her uncle was around. It had been hard enough to bear when she'd lived within the fold. Having tasted the freedom and opportunities the outside world had to offer outside of their tightly knit circle, his domineering nature had become insufferable. She took a deep breath and attempted a calm tone. "I don't forget, Uncle. But nothing has changed. The curse still holds."

"Does it?" He darted a shrewd glance at her. "The elder woman says there is something different. She says the misery surrounding him lightens. There is a change."

"There is no change. He still suffers. And he is trying to atone for what he's done. He even saved my life," she pointed out, her chin lifted defiantly.

"The elder woman is never wrong," he countered flatly. "You have been watching, yes? What have you seen?" He moved closer, his eyes never leaving her face. Jenny forced herself not to back up. At moments like this, she thought her uncle was very like a snake, trying to hypnotize or cow her with his look.

Well, she wasn't to be so easily frightened. She wasn't a little girl any more to be scared by ancient tales whispered around the fire. "If the curse had been broken, the streets would be full of the dead and dying. I've heard enough horror stories to know that much. _Nothing_ has changed."

"There is change!" he barked out. When she said nothing more, merely narrowing her eyes at his harsh tone, he tried to sound more conciliatory. "Janna, I wish to keep you safe, to keep all of us safe. This monster once murdered one of our favored. The wretched vampire pack he traveled with slaughtered every man, woman and child in the clan who ever knew her. If this beast should get loose again, those dark days would be upon us once more. Do you want to be the one responsible for that?"

Jenny's look faltered and she stared at the floor for a moment. When she lifted her head, she muttered, "I-I've seen him. With a girl. S-she's special to him."

His gentle air vanished at this news. "And you have allowed this? Janna, this cannot continue. If this monster experiences one moment of pure happiness, then the curse is broken and his soul is lost. If this girl you mention holds the key to that happiness, then this business between them cannot continue. Whatever this girl means to him, you must deal with her at once. Do you understand?" His dark eyes bored into hers.

"I-I understand," she whispered faintly.

The older man continued to bend an unwavering stare on her. What he saw must have satisfied him because he nodded sharply and left the apartment without speaking to her again.

Jenny stood motionless for several moments after he'd gone. Then she came to a decision. Walking to the hallway, she picked up the phone where it sat on the ledge and began punching in some numbers. When a well-known voice picked up on the other end, she forced a tremulous smile onto her face. "Rupert? I-I've been thinking things over for the past few weeks and I think I've had enough space. Would you like to meet me for dinner tomorrow?"

Xander shifted on his hard seat. He hated chemistry class. It was smelly and pointless. Other than learning how to make stink bombs in the second grade, what good was it? "And this string of symbols means what again?"

The redheaded girl beside him glanced at his paper. "Nitrous sulfate."

Xander scribbled something on his paper. Willow peered over his shoulder and whispered, "No, that's a sulfide."

"What's the difference?"

She frowned and gestured. "Look at the board. We've been over this."

"And it's still Greek to me," he moaned softly. "When am I ever gonna need this stuff?"

The green-eyed girl stated with authority, "Knowledge is power, Xander."

"No, a great big hammer is power. This is just useless wear and tear on the brain," Xander huffed under his breath.

"It helped us find out about Ted the robot, didn't it?" Willow pointed out. "I'm telling you, that guy was a genius. There were parts of that machine that predated—"

Buffy looked back at the two of them. "Willow, tell me you didn't keep any parts," she accused.

The redhead looked guilty and mumbled, "Not any big ones."

"Willow, you're supposed to use your mind for good not evil," Xander chided.

"I just want to learn stuff," Willow said defensively.

"Like how to build your own serial killer?" Xander quipped. Then the bell rang and he sighed in relief. "Yes! And on that note, I was wondering if you ladies would like to go Bronzing tonight."

"Um, yeah!" Willow said too quickly. "I-I was sorta planning on going anyway. I'm kinda meeting someone."

Buffy was immediately interested. "Really? Who?"

"His name's Oz, short for Daniel Osbourne. He's a guy I met during Career Week. These computer guys had been tracking me because of my big brains—you know, the ones that make me so dull," she sniped at Xander.

"Hey, I didn't mean—"

She went on, ignoring him. "And they wanted me to work for them for their computer software company. There was only one other student who met their criteria and this guy is it. He's really smart, too, a-and I think he likes me," she finished in a rush, casting her eyes down and blushing.

"Way to go, Wills! Not many guys who like a girl for her brains," Buffy observed.

"I like your brains, Wills!" Xander protested. "I like all of you. You're a wonderful Willow package."

"Thanks. But I think I'd like to go out with boy who actually notices and appreciates the Willow package for a change," Willow tossed back airily. She took off for her next class, leaving behind an unhappy Xander and thoughtful Buffy.

"I get the feeling I've been snubbed. Do you get snubbedness vibes from her, too?"

"No. But she probably felt it from you a lot. Shoe's on the other foot now, eh, Xander?" Buffy couldn't feel too sorry for Xander. She'd seen how Willow's heart broke into little pieces every time Xander drooled over every girl who crossed his path except hers. Guess Xander was going to find out what it felt like to take your best friend for granted.

"I never snubbed Willow," Xander said stiffly. "She's been my bestest friend for years. And who's this Oz guy anyway? How come I never heard about him? Have you heard about him before?"

"Nope. Guess he travels in big brain country. Bye, Xand. Maybe I'll see you later."

Xander perked up at that. "Sure. If Willow is going to be busy, you and I can pair up at the Bronze."

She hesitated before ducking into her next class. "No can do. I've got plans. Maybe tomorrow."

Xander stood in the middle of the hall and then shuffled off before the bell caught him. "Huh? What am I suddenly, the school pariah? Did I forget to put on deodorant this morning?"

Giles had agonized over his choice of clothing for ages. He was well aware that Buffy and her friends thought of him as Boring Tweedy Book Guy and Jenny had called him "snobby" as well. Perhaps something a little less stodgy was in order. However, his wardrobe was surprisingly unyielding in this capacity.

"Tweed, tweed, denim, no, too casual, more tweed," he muttered. "Goodness, when did I turn into such an old codger?" He finally pulled out a slightly less worn tweed jacket. Well, she'd seen him in tweed so it wasn't as if this would be a surprise for her. And she seemed to like him regardless so why bother to change now? He laid out his suit and decided to give his shoes a good, solid polish.

The restaurant was quiet but not too much. Therefore, they didn't feel as if they had to whisper. All in all, Giles thought it was a good choice. He had asked what kind of cuisine Jenny preferred and she told him that, since she was taking him out, she already had a place in mind.

So here they were at a Chinese place. It was casual without the implied romance of Italian cooking or the hauteur of French cuisine or the odd adventurousness of Indian. It was nicely neutral. Jenny certainly seemed to appreciate it. She was wonderfully chatty although she was interested mainly in himself. "I was thinking about Eyghon," she murmured casually while helping herself to a piece of dim sum.

He stiffened and dropped a piece of his dumpling into his lap. Luckily he had a napkin over his thighs and quickly retrieved the sticky food before the stain could leak through to his trousers. "E-Eyghon? I thought you…that is, I thought you didn't want to dwell on that. I can't tell you again how sorry…"

"I'm not blaming you, Rupert. It's not as if you intended to hurt me. Or your friends. You suffered a hell of a lot more than I did, after all. You lost people you cared about." She gave him a sympathetic look and waited for him to get himself under control.

"Indeed," he muttered. He thought about Randall and all the others lost through the years because of a stupid spell-enhanced orgy. He thought of his Slayer, her body violated and put in danger by that ponce Ethan Rayne. That memory alone was enough to make a dark, red tide swell behind his eyes. He shook off the reminiscence to concentrate on the lovely brunette woman opposite him.

"I didn't mean to hurt you by bringing it up. I just wonder how a young Englishman goes from being a rebel sorcerer to a stuffy, if rather handsome, toe-the-line Watcher." She smiled winningly at him and his heart fluttered, both at her expression and her description of him as "handsome."

"Ah, well, actually the transition was rather the other way around."

She lifted an eyebrow as she speared another dumpling. "Really?"

"Yes. My father wanted me to be a Watcher. But I hated the idea that my whole life would be devoted to helping some slip of a girl I'd never even met. It felt too much like an arranged marriage in which you never see the bride until the wedding day. It was positively medieval, to my way of thinking. So I chucked it all and ran off to the big city and fell in with Ethan and his crowd. I tried to distance myself from everything I knew and was. I succeeded beyond my worst imaginings."

When he fell silent, she prodded him gently. "So what happened then? What made you turn your back on the dark arts? Was it Eyghon?"

"Yes. You might say that was my wake-up call. I saw where such evil led, the innocent lives it would claim and how I was distinctly unprepared to deal with such power. I had ability as a sorcerer, certainly. But there was no real training to control it and I had no true desire to use it for my own ends. Also, I-I was genuinely terrified when I saw what the magicks could do. As Eyghon said, I was never strong enough for him."

"That's nonsense, Rupert. I had that thing inside me, remember? I could hear its thoughts. It wanted you in the worst way because it craved your strength. It was willing to take Rayne, all right, but only as a substitute." She took a chance and reached across the table to clasp his hand lightly. "You were strong enough to turn away from it, after all."

A flare of heat raced up his arm and he could feel his breath coming unevenly. Taking a sip of water to steady himself, he stammered, "I-I didn't see it that way at the time. When the magicks started killing my friends, I ran…back into the bosom of my family, back to the Watchers Council that was waiting for me to fulfill my destiny as Watcher. It seemed cowardly, yet another way of running away from something I didn't want to handle."

She drew back her hand and resumed spearing her food expertly with a chopstick. "And how has that destiny been working out for you? Do you find it easy balancing the duties of a Watcher with the ordinary, day-to-day life of a regular Joe?"

He chuckled. "You would be the first person I've met here to describe me in those terms. I'm hardly regular."

"Still, no one would look at you and think you lead a double life." She bit and swallowed a piece of pork and then leaned across the table. "So how do you manage with Buffy?"

"Well, with Buffy, I found the normal rules didn't apply. From the first, she made it plain she wasn't about to be bossed about or ordered. All I could do was provide guidance and training. In every other aspect, she's definitely her own person."

"I get that." Jenny smiled although inside her heart was pounding. Her line of interrogation was coming along swimmingly. Giles apparently had no inkling she was pumping him for information. She felt sick, that she could dupe him so easily. The man trusted her and she was no better than a spy and informant for her uncle. Pushing aside her growing unease, she asked, "It's not a danger, having other people in on her secret?"

"Surprisingly no. I'd been taught from the very first day as a Watcher that secrecy was paramount. The outside world could not know of us or of Slayers and it was best on the whole for these young girls to remain hidden in order to provide safety for their role as protectors of the world. But Buffy has proved me wrong. She draws strength, not from her training as Slayer, but from her friends, her family a-and people like yourself. I'm still grateful for the aid you lent us against Moloch the Corrupter, by the way," he finished with a shy smile.

"Happy to help." Jenny braced herself inwardly. This would be the tricky part. "So how do you reconcile keeping Buffy safe with letting her…associate with a vampire?"

"A-Angel isn't just any vampire," he offered. "He possesses a soul, courtesy of a gypsy curse."

Jenny managed to keep her face impassive in the wake of this news. "A curse?"

"Quite. I was astonished to learn of this myself. The Watchers Council had lost sight of him for almost a century. No one knew what had happened to him. Then he turned up here in America and Buffy learned he had a soul."

"But that doesn't explain why you allow her to remain with him. He's a vampire. She's a vampire Slayer. I would have thought there'd be only one outcome to such a situation."

Giles had often harbored secret doubts about Buffy's relationship with Angel. He could understand how others might perceive the affair as being rather warped. Nevertheless, he felt the need to defend Buffy's actions to Jenny just as he had defended them to Kendra. "Angel's soul makes him unique, special. There is no other like him in the world. And his help and strength make him an invaluable asset to Buffy's cause. That's why we see no need to kill him out of hand."

"I'm not talking about that, Rupert. If he's that great a fighter, I'd be the last one to keep him from wading in, fists swinging. I'm referring to the fact that he seems to be conducting a romance with her. Surely that doesn't meet with your approval?" She tried for a light tone but she couldn't help the clear edge of disapproval from seeping in.

"I had my qualms about Angel's…involvement with Buffy. But as I said she is exceedingly strong-willed. If I were to forbid her to see Angel, she would doubtless continue to do so in defiance of my wishes. I also have no legitimate reason to separate them other than the obvious. As I said, he is an asset in the fight and has saved her life on more than one occasion. He even killed his Sire in order to defend her."

"He did?" Jenny hadn't heard this story and she wasn't sure she wanted to. She didn't want to feel any kind of sympathy towards Angel. If she was to fulfill her mission, she had to keep an emotional distance.

Unaware of her emotional turmoil, Giles proceeded with his tale. "We thought Angel had attacked Joyce Summers, Buffy's mother. But it turned out that it was his Sire Darla who had committed the deed. Apparently, she was either trying to goad Angel into feeding or trick Buffy into killing him."

"Why would she want Angelus dead if she's his Sire?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What?" Giles was staring at her with a puzzled frown. Jenny wondered what was wrong.

"You called him Angelus. Where did you hear that name?"

Jenny could have kicked herself. She had been listening to her uncle's stories about the demon for so long, the name had just slipped out. "I did? I must have heard you mention it."

"No, I never call him that. None of the others do either. He gave up that name when he gained his soul. Even Xander doesn't refer to him as anything other than Deadboy. It's rather childish of him but he doesn't like Angel and this is his way of needling him. Where did _you_ hear the name Angelus?"

He was getting suspicious and she had to throw him off the track. Jenny grinned in what she hoped was a sheepish fashion. "All right, you caught me. I've been sneaking into the library and reading some of your precious books when you weren't around. I wanted to see what you found so fascinating about those musty old dust collectors and I saw references to Angelus in one of them. The engravings aren't as good as photographs but the resemblance is pretty strong. Angel _is_ Angelus, isn't he?"

"He most emphatically is not. If he were, he would have killed Buffy and everybody who ever knew her. Angelus was known as the Scourge of Europe the way Attila the Hun was known as the Scourge of God. They were both ruthless, cutthroat killers without a shred of conscience. Angel is not that creature. He cares for others and I have found him sensitive, thoughtful…"

"It sounds like you've spent some time with him yourself. How do you reconcile that with your duty as a Watcher? Doesn't your training tell you he should be killed, soul or no? What does the Watchers Council have to say about this?"

Giles had no idea why he suddenly felt on the defensive. Jenny couldn't possibly be faulting his role as a Watcher; she barely knew what it meant. Still, he strove to clarify the matter for her as best he could. "As I've pointed out, being Buffy's Watcher has meant making certain concessions. Besides, the Watchers Council is a kind of ivory tower of learning. They spend so much time among _their_ books, their tomes of ancient lore; they have no idea of what it means to cope in the outside world. I could go on being their lackey, serving them blindly without regard for Buffy's needs and wishes. But it would make her a poorer Slayer—and me, a deficient Watcher."

Jenny was silent as she picked at her food. Without looking up, she mumbled, almost to herself, "But it must be hard…bucking centuries of tradition, defying the words and teachings of hidebound old men who feel they know better than you what you should be doing. They've been your mentors for years. How can you go against their training?"

"Perhaps a little of the 'rebel yell' still remains in me, yes? And being with Buffy has been an eye-opening experience in many ways. She's quite special…much like Angel. They both defy tradition," Giles responded with a proud beam. When Jenny returned his grin with a wan smile, he added, "Besides, what the Council doesn't know won't hurt them."

Jenny gave him a startled look. "They don't know about Angel?"

Now it was Giles's turn to look guilty. "N-no. I have deliberately kept his name out of my reports. I thought it was best, all around. Like you, they might not understand. If they found out that Angelus was still on the scene, they wouldn't care that he possessed a soul. They would demand action. And, if Buffy refused to take the obvious steps, they might send someone over here to deal with the matter."

"They'd have someone kill Angel?" Jenny probed.

Giles hesitated. He didn't want anyone to know how ruthless the Council could be. He had deliberately hidden such knowledge from Buffy, her friends and her mother about what kind of people they were. Even Joyce had only had an inkling of what they were capable of. But Jenny was genuinely interested and he wanted to show some sign of trust after what he'd put her through with Eyghon. "They might, although, given the stories of his exploits, they would be too cautious to deal with him directly. No, their probable course of action would be to—remove Buffy and let the next Slayer in line do the deed for them."

"They'd kill Buffy?" Jenny was appalled. Giles looked almost ill and there was a grim, tight line about his mouth. He didn't answer; he didn't need to. His silence spoke volumes. She bit her lower lip nervously and reached for his hand again. "I'm so sorry, Rupert. I had no idea. D-does Angel know what a danger his presence is for her?"

Giles squeezed her hand convulsively. "No, I haven't told him. And you shouldn't either. I'm trusting you to keep this a secret, Jenny. Not that there's any great need. The Watchers Council doesn't know about Angel and they're not likely to. I can trust you to keep that secret, too, can't I?"

His smile this time was light-hearted as if he were sharing a great joke. She smiled back and laughed lightly. "Goodness, listen to us. I invited you out to dinner for a little making up and we wind up having a grim discussion about vampires."

"Only on the Hellmouth," Giles replied in a dry tone. "So enough about my wild and misspent youth. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Here Jenny was on surer ground. She told him the tale of her boring and mundane past, her extensive training as a computer teacher on the east coast. It was there Angelus had been spotted in the 1980s by her people in their relentless tracking of him during his aimless journeys around the world. She had been the latest in the Kalderash line chosen to follow and watch him. In her way, she was a Watcher, too. Too bad she couldn't share that with Rupert.

She left all that out, of course, concentrating on her computer training since she knew it would bore him. Sure enough, his responses dwindled down to casual and polite murmurs as his attention wandered. She kept up a stream of light, running chatter and let the conversation turn down other avenues.

She protested when Giles insisted on paying for the meal. He was being the English gentleman but she pointed out that since she had asked him out for dinner it was only right that she pay for the meal. Actually, the urge to pay stemmed mainly from the guilt she was experiencing for her motives.

She eyed the handsome Englishman while she pulled out her credit card and handed it to the waiter. Giles was so comfortable with his deception of the Council. He felt no qualms about keeping them in the dark about the monster that shared a forbidden love with his Slayer. It was a baffling attitude to take. She didn't know whether she admired or hated him for that.

Giles had seemed so wholesome, so safe. Not in his calling as Watcher, of course, but in his own sweet self. The stodginess that she'd teased him for, his old-fashioned courtly ways, the tweed and love of tea had been worlds away from the mystic fanaticism of the Kalderash people. For a while, she had fooled herself into thinking she could immerse herself in his world and forget about the stifling duty demanded of her.

The affair with Eyghon had completely rattled her, destroying her illusions. Angelus, the creature she'd been taught to hate and fear, had saved her while the man she had come to like and trust had put her life in mortal danger. Her beliefs had been challenged on both fronts and she'd been unable to handle it. It had been easier to withdraw from Giles—easier and safer. Without contact with him, she'd been able to keep apart from his world and watch the vampire she'd been sworn to follow from a distance. That had reduced the conflict between her feelings for the Englishman and her duty…until Uncle Enyos had shown up demanding sterner measures.

Jenny had wanted to impress on the Watcher the dangers of letting the souled vampire remain by his Slayer's side. She had hoped that perhaps he could be persuaded to separate Buffy from the vampire. But he couldn't see the need. If she was unwilling to be honest with him, then how could he know the full danger they were all in?

She couldn't inform the Council. Even if she somehow managed to get hold of their number, the risk to Buffy was just too great. Although Buffy's demise would solve the problem, she wouldn't connive at the death of an innocent girl. How would she be any better than Angelus if she did?

She sighed and allowed Giles to open the restaurant door as they left. Other than gaining new information about the Council, she wasn't certain the date had accomplished anything. It certainly hadn't soothed her feelings about lying to a man she was afraid she had come to feel too much for already.

Without warning, a man darted up to her and snatched her purse. "Hey!" she yelled.

"Blast!" Giles yelled and then tore off down the street after the fleeing man.

"Giles! Wait! Forget it. It's not worth it!" Jenny hesitated and then took off after him.

Giles knew within a few feet that he had no chance of catching the thief. The offender was young and fast and the distance between them was lengthening with each second. As the fleeing criminal turned the corner, the librarian paused and leaned, panting, against a car. To his astonishment, he saw the purse-snatcher come flying back onto the pavement in front of him. Looking up, he saw Angel step out of the shadows, Jenny's bag in his hand. "I don't think this belongs to you," he told the kid on the sidewalk.

Leaping up the boy flicked out a switchblade. His head swung back and forth between Angel and Giles. He didn't really want to take on two men even if one of them was an old guy. When Jenny came stumbling to a halt, he grabbed her around the neck and held the knife to her throat.

"Let her go!" Giles cried out. He hadn't seen Jenny saved from a demonic possession only to lose her to a common mugger.

"Tell your friend to hand over the purse, otherwise I cut her. I mean it!" he snarled, a feral gleam in his eyes as he tried to keep Jenny between himself and the other two men.

"Fine. Although I don't think it goes with your dress," Angel replied casually. He tossed the purse so it landed a few feet away.

The boy crouched down, his tight grip ensuring that Jenny had to crouch with him. Snatching up his prize, he shoved her into Giles's arms and turned to run—only to encounter a broad chest and deceptively calm face that stared down at him. He did a double take to see the tall guy he'd been facing somehow had managed to get behind him. "Hey, how did you—?"

"I'm fast on my feet. Used to be a messenger." This time Angel didn't throw him. His fist flew up and impacted with the guy's chin. It wasn't a killing blow by any standards but it must have packed a wallop nonetheless. The punk's eyes rolled up and he crumpled to the ground like a cut clothesline.

The vampire picked up the purse where it lay by the man's outstretched hand and gave it back to Jenny. Angel frowned as the fear smell peaked and got stronger as he came closer. The danger was over. Why was she still afraid?

"A-Angel," Giles breathed. He stroked Jenny's shoulder as she trembled. "Thank goodness you were here. Why were you here?"

"I live a few blocks from here. I was just strolling through the neighborhood." His sharp ears caught the increase in the woman's heartbeat. Now she was truly nervous and the fear smell was getting stronger.

"Indeed? I-I didn't know that. W-well, luckily you were in the vicinity." He turned to Jenny. "It seems all our dates are destined to end in one disaster or another." He recalled the vampire with them. "Oh, Angel, you were never formally introduced. You remember Jenny Calendar, don't you?"

"That business with the demon spirit. I remember. Not the sort of first encounter to slip the mind." He held out his hand and she took it tentatively. Oh, yeah, there was definitely more than ordinary anxiety at work here.

"Y-you see, this is Angel we're dealing with here now. Not his menacing alter ego," Giles joked in an attempt to ease her obvious distress.

Angel eyed Ms. Calendar as he spoke. "Why? Were you expecting him?"

"Jenny is not entirely convinced of the decency of your souled status," Giles replied.

"I so like being discussed as if I weren't here," the woman snapped sharply and both men glanced at her in surprise. She straightened and began marching down the street back towards Giles's car.

"Forgive her, Angel. She's must be rather shaken. I'd best get after her and see her home." Giles waved distractedly at Angel as he strode after Jenny.

The vampire stopped him. "What about this guy?" He gestured at the fallen mugger.

"Oh, him? Well, yes, can't allow him to continue attacking the citizenry, can we?" Giles ran his hand through his hair. "I-I'll call the police to deal with him. You don't need to stick around. We'll say you were a Good Samaritan who helped and went on his way and leave it at that, shall we?"

The vampire smiled faintly. "Thanks. See you around, Giles." This had only been the second time he'd encountered Ms. Calendar but both times she'd exhibited the same trepidation even though he'd saved her life. It was part and parcel of being a vampire, he supposed. Some people never got over that no matter how harmless he tried to make himself appear. Maybe it was the height thing…

The night was still young and there was a chance he'd run into Buffy on her patrols. Thinking of her, he smiled to himself. Nowadays, contemplation of Buffy brought the only spots of happiness in his otherwise dour existence. Dismissing the Calendar woman, he jogged off to find his Slayer.

Giles found himself smiling all throughout the next day. Jenny had been a trifle subdued because of the physical assault but that was to be expected. Other than that, she was much warmer than she had been for weeks. They had spoken briefly in the school hallways this morning and had made plans for another date the following week. It appeared the dangerous nature of their dates wasn't enough to keep her away. She was quite the feisty woman.

He smiled at the thought and shelved another book. Xander and Willow came bouncing into the library. The redhead called out, "Hey, Giles! How're things?"

"Things are going rather well, Willow." He beamed at her. He would have preferred to say "smashing" but typical English reticence held him back.

However, Xander must have seen something in his face because he said, "What's up, G-man? Did you come across special demony phenomenon Buffy has to squash?"

Buffy chose that moment to enter, Angel on her heels. "Did somebody mention my name?"

Giles raised his eyebrows at seeing the vampire and then glanced outside. Goodness, was it evening already? Daydreaming about Jenny had caused the hours to fly by. "Um, hello, Buffy. Has anything eventful occurred on patrol?"

Buffy plopped into one of the library chairs and rubbed at her scalp. She hated getting vamp dust in her hair. It clung to the natural oils in the strands the way ordinary dust didn't and was hell to wash out if she let it set. But she thought her Watcher ought to know the sitch so she checked in with him before going home. "Well, the number of bloodsuckers is rising again. Something tells me the Anointed has been holding an open call for new vampire recruits. There were six newbies tonight, all young and kicking, and seven vamps we caught trying to snack on the local yokels. Giles, I don't get it. The Anointed One is just a kid. Why should he be so hard to track and why are new vamps so loyal to him?"

"He's part of the Master's line. If he's still trading on his reputation, that would be enough to gain him a certain respect in the vampire community," Angel said. He looked up at Giles. "How was Ms. Calendar? She looked a bit wobbly to me. Did you get her home all right?"

"Yes. Thank you, Angel." Giles flushed faintly when he saw two pairs of feminine eyes turn their gazes on him.

"What's this about you and Ms. Calendar?" Buffy asked, her hazel eyes noting Giles' sudden embarrassment.

"Ooh, did you take my advice and ask her out again?" Willow breathed.

"Um, no, actually. She asked me out. I told you she wouldn't be shy when it came to speaking her mind although her offer took me by surprise."

"I don't believe it! Even the G-man is getting more luck in the dating pool than me. I'm starting to feel like a wallflower at the prom here," Xander complained. "Is it possible for guys to be wallflowers? Maybe they're called something more manly—like wall vines or wall trees."

"I didn't get lucky, Xander. Not that it's any of your business," Giles reproached him stiffly.

"What was that Angel said about wobbliness? Did Ms. Calendar break a heel?" Willow asked.

"No. She was attacked by a knife-wielding purse-snatcher. Fortunately, Angel was in the neighborhood and managed to foil the assailant."

"You did? You never said a word, Angel!" Buffy exclaimed.

Angel shrugged uncomfortably. "It wasn't anything."

The Watcher was swift to deny that. "I must differ. Jenny owes you her life."

Angel frowned. "I don't think she saw it that way. She was far more frightened of me than she was of the mugger."

Willow raised her eyebrows. "Really? Did you have your 'grrrr' face on?"

"No. She just was really nervous about me."

"Yes. We had had a talk in the restaurant about you and your demonic other half. Jenny wasn't convinced by my arguments about your having a soul. She thought Angelus remained a clear and present danger."

"How did she know about Angelus? I mean, how does she know Angel is Angelus? I didn't tell her. Giles, did you go blabbing to Jenny about Angel?" Buffy drew closer to Angel and rubbed his arm. She had seen the shadow fall over his face at the mention of his inner demon and wanted to reassure him that it didn't bother her.

"She says she's been sneaking in here when I'm not around and taking peeps into my books." He pulled out the book he'd shown to Buffy about "the vampire with the angelic face" and Angel leaned over it with a frown.

"She couldn't have touched this one, Giles. It doesn't have her scent on it. In fact, I don't smell her in here at all." He gestured around the open space.

This time it was Giles's turn to frown. "Well, she hasn't been in here in some weeks. She's been avoiding me, you know."

"So when has she been reading the books, then, G-man? And what do you mean by you don't smell her on the books? Since when do books carry odors, Deadboy?" Xander challenged.

"Books are full of natural materials for the most part—wood fibers from the paper, the old leathers and bindings on Giles's copies. Even the animal glues carry their own scent and such substances pick up odors from anybody who has been handling them. If Ms. Calendar had had her hands on this book recently, her body odor would be on it—and it's not." Angel tapped the book in question.

Xander gave an exaggerated shudder. "Okay, is anybody else majorly creeped out by the undead bloodhound in our midst?"

"B-but why would she lie?" Willow asked. "Why say she'd seen Angel's name in a book if she'd been nowhere near it?"

"Not Angel's name. Angelus," Buffy said slowly. "Not one of us uses that name and she had to come up with a story about where she'd seen it. So what better culprit than one of Giles's books?"

"Ookay. So Ms. Calendar knows about Angelus. How does she know?" Xander was struck by a horrid suspicion. "Holy moly. You don't think she's a demon, do you?"

"No, Xander. If she were a demon, I would have smelled it," Angel said with some asperity.

Buffy was impressed. "Wow, that vamp smell of yours does come in handy."

"But what other human being would know about Angelus?" Willow wondered.

"I can't imagine. The only one I could think of o-other than Kendra would be a Council member." Giles recalled his conversation with Jenny in the restaurant and a hollow sensation opened up in his stomach. "Good Lord."

"Oh, I hate it when he says that," Buffy muttered. "What is it, Watcher mine?"

"Jenny and I were discussing Angel and your a-association on our date last night. She was very disapproving of your r-relationship with him, Buffy, and wondered why I didn't break it off." He remembered what he had told Jenny about the Council and what probable steps they would take against his Slayer and he blanched.

Buffy noted his pallor. "What is it, Giles? What's wrong? You're starting to give me the wiggins."

The next moment he dismissed his fears. "I was thinking that she might be an undercover Watcher sent to spy on Buffy. But that's not feasible. She's been here for almost a year and she's known of you and Angel for months. If she were a Council spy, steps would have been taken before now to kill him and free you from his influence."

"So if she's not a demon and she's not a Council spy, who could she be, G-man?" Xander asked. "Anybody notice anything off about her?"

"Other than the technopagan thing, Xander?" Buffy asked with a shrug.

"I saw a funny-looking necklace fall out of her purse the other day. She told me it was something she picked up at a fair. But she was super quick to hide it like she didn't want me to see it," Willow added.

"What did it look like, Willow?" Giles asked.

Willow pulled a notebook out of her bag and fumbled for a pencil. "It looked like an eye with vines and leaves twisted around it." She finished the crude sketch and turned it around so the others could see it.

Giles perused the design carefully. "Hmmm. The eye is a part of many arcane symbols and motifs. However, I-I don't think I'm familiar with this particular insignia."

"I am." The quiet, chill voice drew everybody's attention to the souled vampire. He stared at the design as if mesmerized.

"Angel? What is it?" Buffy didn't think she'd ever seen Angel afraid except when it had been for her sake. Whatever this eye-thing was, it had him majorly spooked.

Angel lifted his eyes and spoke directly to Giles. "It's the insignia of the Kalderash tribe. The gypsies who cursed me with my soul."

TBC

[A/N: _Vaida_ means Gypsy chief. _Gadje_ means non-gypsy.]


	9. Revelations of a Romany Watcher

Giles was the first to break the silence. "K-Kalderash? The Romany tribe who cursed you? Are you certain?"

Angel's face was grim; fear and an odd menace glimmered deep in his impenetrable dark eyes. "The return of my soul? That's not the kind of night a vampire forgets. That's not the kind of night _anyone_ forgets." His eye remained bent on the symbol as if it exerted a mesmeric power over him. Then he seemed to recall the people with him and moved to the library windows, staring out through the glass.

"And she didn't say anything about this to you, Giles? Not once last night?" Buffy asked.

"N-no. Not a word a-about gypsies o-or the curse. Nothing. S-she only queried me about A-Angel's involvement with you, Buffy." Thinking about what this must mean, Giles removed his glasses and began scrubbing them furiously.

Xander exclaimed, "Anyone thinking it's not a coincidence a Cauliflower gypsy turns up in the same town as a vamp with a soul, raise your hands!"

"That's Kalderash, Xander," Giles corrected.

Willow spoke up, protesting the slur against her favorite teacher. "N-now wait a gosh darned minute! N-nobody said anything a-about Ms. Calendar being a-a gypsy. She just happens to have a-a funny-looking necklace in her purse, that's all."

"So why doesn't she wear it around her neck? I don't know much about women's fashions but that's the usual place for necklaces, isn't it?" Xander countered.

"Maybe she h-hasn't gotten around to wearing it 'cause, you know, it doesn't go with anything she owns. I get that problem, too, sometimes. I see something that looks great in the store but then I get it home and blecch!" Willow replied heatedly.

"I'm thinking our Ms. Calendar hasn't been of the straight with us. She's got Angel in her sights for some reason and I'd like to find out why," Buffy said, her arms folded as she shot worried stares between the eye symbol and the vampire gazing into the darkness that lay beyond the window.

Giles re-seated his glasses upon his nose and spoke to his charge. "Buffy, Willow's right. Before w-we go assuming Ms. Calendar has s-some dangerous secret agenda, perhaps I might point out that she hasn't done Angel any actual harm. In fact, except when her life has been put in danger, she's had very little contact with him at all. Those gypsies cursed him a long time ago, cursed him t-to suffer and be punished for his crime against them. It is hardly likely at this late date that they have decided on a new torment for him."

"No, I'd say they got the job done right the first time," Angel murmured, his voice heavy with irony.

"Y-yes. Quite," Giles replied uncomfortably.

"But the necklace, Giles! And you said she lied when she spoke about Angelus. Angel said he gave her the wiggins last night. The fact that she's calling him by the name of his ugly alter ego is a big tip-off right there she doesn't think of him as a good guy," Buffy pointed out. "So chances are, she's not hanging around with Angel's health in mind."

"But what could s-she want with him now?" Willow asked. "She's not one of the gypsies who cursed him. It all happened so long ago."

"She might be a descendant of the original gypsies who leveled the curse," Giles mused. The Watcher was as loath as Willow to believe ill of Jenny but her conversation from last night, her persistent antagonism towards Angel and her own criticism of his methods did not speak highly for her innocence.

Xander scratched his head as he looked over the drawing. "G-man, you said she was asking about Buffy _and_ Deadboy, right? Could be Buffy's the new jigsaw piece in this funky little puzzle. Maybe everybody's favorite Slayer is the reason Ms. Calendar's sniffing around He-Who-Walks-With-Broody-Expression."

"Yes, Xander. I think you might be onto something. Je-Ms. Calendar wasn't enquiring about Angel per se as to why I could let Buffy be with him. S-She seemed to feel that he posed a threat to Buffy in spite of my attempts to indicate otherwise."

"Makes sense to me. That's proof that Ms. Calendar's one of the good guys. Well, I guess that settles that question," Xander said, directing a knowing smirk at the vampire. Angel didn't turn nor make any response to the sally.

"Xander's facile acceptance aside, t-this is a trifle worrying. I-I can't imagine what Ms. Calendar's final plans are even if we have ascertained her motives. She's worried about Angel's presence in B-Buffy's life and she may—I'm not saying she is, mind you—be a descendant of the original Romany tribe who cursed Angel with his soul. That's really all we know."

Willow asked, "How d-do we find out more? S-should we spy on her or follow her?"

"No, absolutely not," Giles countered, his voice turning sharp and irritated. "I shall confront her with what we have learned and question her a-about what she knows of Angel."

Buffy was clearly dissatisfied with this course of action. "And if she dummies up? Pretends she doesn't know what we're talking about? Then what, Giles? Willow just said she really could have gotten that necklace at a fair. What if she sticks to that story? What if she says she's of the concern-y for me when she talked to you and that's it?"

"Then I can point out the lie about the b-books. I think Angel should be there to back me up." He looked towards the vampire. As if sensing his gaze, Angel turned and met his eye. After a brief moment, he nodded and turned his gaze back onto the deepening darkness beyond the windows.

"Whoa, hold on, folks! Like you said, Ms. Calendar hasn't done anything. Shouldn't we check all our facts before we haul her in for the third degree?" Xander protested.

"We're kinda low on facts, Xander. What you see is what you get," Buffy countered.

"Yeah, and what I see is a screwball design and Deadboy's word that Ms. Calendar hasn't been marking the books with her smell trail like a poorly trained poodle. Not exactly sound proof of a criminal mind, Buffy." Xander turned to Willow. "C'mon, Wills. Back me up here. You don't think Ms. Calendar is up to any cloak-and-dagger bushwa, do ya?"

Willow didn't want to believe anything bad about Ms. Calendar. But she didn't hate Angel the way Xander did and thought he was being really unfair. "I-I don't know, Xander. Ya gotta admit, this is kinda strange. And why would Angel lie and point fingers at M-Ms. Calendar if she's all innocent? If he's never hurt her, she's never hurt him either."

"Fine. If you're going to use logic… Well, okay, maybe she _is_ up to something. But if she starts paddling up the River of Denial, what do we do then?" Xander asked.

"Maybe Willow can do a little hacking the way she did with Billy Fordham," Angel threw out. "She can see into Ms. Calendar's past, see if she's been telling the truth about her background, where she's been, that sort of thing."

Willow beamed. She was thrilled that Angel recalled her helpfulness. "Okey dokey, Angel."

Giles wore an unhappy expression. "D-do you really think that's necessary?"

"Giles, I don't like it any better than you do. But we've caught one of our teachers in a great flaming lie." Buffy was struck by a thought. "Oh my god. What if she's another Ms. French faker? Remember when she chopped off Dr. Gregory's head so she could take his place and make Xander her virgin love toy? Maybe Ms. Calendar pulled a kind of switcheroo, too!"

"Do we have to bring up my ugly past, Buffy? I'm trying to repress here," Xander huffed, giving an exaggerated shudder of his shoulders. Once again, Angel thought he needed to hear the tale of Xander's love woes. It would be a wonderful way of making the boy squirm the next time he cut loose with one of his "Deadboy" cracks.

"I think that highly unlikely, Buffy," Giles replied. "As Angel said, she's not a demon otherwise he would have sensed it. Seeing as this is the Hellmouth, such things often leave a dead body in their wake. And there have been no s-suspicious deaths or disappearances tied to Ms. Calendar's presence."

"So that's the plan then? I'll go home and check up on Ms. Calendar on my computer. W-what'll you do, Giles?" Willow asked.

The Englishman sighed heavily. "Regardless of what you find out, Willow, Angel and I must meet with and talk to Ms. Calendar."

"You and Angel? What about me, Giles? Doesn't this concern me, too?" Buffy demanded.

"Yes, it most certainly does. But I don't want Ms. Calendar to feel she's on trial, Buffy. I merely want to question her. K-keeping the number of people confronting her low may make her feel more at ease."

"That's right, Buff. She's gonna feel creeped out enough by having Soul Boy bothering her without the rest of us getting into the act. You think you can keep the vamp from making her into steak tartare if he gets ticked off, Giles?" Xander asked as he waved at the vampire in question.

Buffy decided she'd had enough of Xander's comments. She moved over to Angel and ran her hand up and down his arm. "Angel? A-are you all right?" She lowered her voice so the others couldn't hear.

"Not really. That was the night when everything came crashing down on me. I lost my fun, carefree existence as Angelus and regained my soul, my memories of everything I'd done, everybody I'd murdered." He closed his eyes against the pain. But that only brought the memory before him more vividly. That sweet, foolish Rom girl, her angry father, the chanting old woman…

She grasped him on the elbow. "Angel, look at me." He turned his opaque gaze on her determined hazel eyes. "That wasn't you. Don't you get that? You could never do such things."

"You'd never get Xander to see that. At the end of the day, I'm just another vampire to him."

She scowled. "Yeah, well, Xander's a big ole dummy sometimes. Don't listen to him, Angel. You're a good person."

He shrugged in weariness. This was an argument they'd had many times. She refused to see him as the monster he was and he worried occasionally about what seemed to be her willful blindness. She'd never seen what Angelus could do, what he was capable of. Other than Darla, she'd never met anyone who could inform her with firsthand knowledge of his dark past. Ms. Calendar might be more than willing to enlighten her.

If the pretty computer teacher _was_ a member of the Kalderash tribe, then she had good reason to hate and fear him. He wondered what Buffy would make of whatever she had to say. Suddenly he couldn't bear thinking about it any longer. He whirled away from the window, startling Buffy with the abruptness of his motion.

"Angel? Where are you going?" she cried.

He replied without turning as he strode towards the library doors. "Out. You should go home to your mother. She's probably wondering where you are."

She ran after him, oblivious to her friends and Watcher. "Angel, wait!"

The others watched her go. "And on that note, I'd say this little Scooby meeting has broken up. You sure you don't want us lending moral support when you grill Ms. Calendar, G-man?"

"Xander, I've asked you not to call me that. And no, your presence will not be needed." Giles picked up the eye drawing and stuck it in his pocket.

"What about me? I-I think I should be there t-to lend the support thing," Willow piped up.

He smiled at her. "As I said, that won't be necessary. I think Angel and I will do just fine without you."

She gathered up her books and shook her head. "Not support for you. I meant Ms. Calendar."

Buffy hurried after Angel. She knew how fast he could move. Even though she was a Slayer and could run faster than normal humans and most vamps unless they got a real head start, Angel had perfected blending into the shadows into an art. If he got too far ahead, he could disappear into the night and she'd never find him. "Angel, hold it!" She darted in front of his fleeing form. "Look, I know this thing with Ms. Calendar has got you wigged big time. But we've faced things more terrifying than her every night of the week. Whatever she's up to, it can't be that bad."

"It's not that, Buffy. It just—brought up a lot of memories for me. That's all." He stuck his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders and continued walking.

She fell into step beside him. "You mean Angelus-y type memories? That bad, huh?"

He shook his head, his features settling into its familiar lines of inner turmoil. "Buffy, you don't understand. I enjoyed myself in those days, Buffy. The excitement, the passion, the bloodlust, the thrill of the hunt… It was a _great_ time for me. Those were good memories. But all that ended when my soul came back. I struggle against the pull of those memories every night but my demon didn't disappear and it's still inside me, whispering about what fun times I could have again if I just let it out. The night I got my soul back was the worst night of my life." He paused while he considered his past and his present. "It was also the best."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Huh? Missing the connection on that. I thought we were still stuck in Miseryville."

"It was the best night of my life because, without my soul, I'd never have been sent to help you." He smiled at her and her insides turned to mush the way they always did when he smiled. She loved the way he seemed to brighten because of her. She lived for the moments she could make him forget the unhappiness that always surrounded him like a cloud.

She hugged him with one arm and he bent his head towards hers for a quick kiss. "Aw. My boyfriend says the sweetest things. C'mon. We'll go home and I'll do a fast check-in with my mom. Dinner, homework and then back outside for slayage. Sound like a plan?"

"Actually, Buffy, maybe you should go it alone tonight."

She frowned, her hazel eyes clouding. "Really? Why?"

"I-I just want to think about things a little. Tonight brought up a lot of stuff for me and I—"

"Just wanna sit in your lonely old apartment and brood? Uh uh. Tonight you are joining me for quality Buffy-and-Angel slaying time. No getting out of it, mister!" She held up a hand as he seemed about to protest.

"Yes, ma'am." Her determination made him grin in spite of himself. Buffy was so irrepressible sometimes. In spite of the slaying, she had maintained her air of innocence and genuine lightness of spirits. She had a way of making him feel young, too. At times she almost made him forget he was a two-centuries-old vampire with a crushing weight on his conscience.

He watched her go into her house after sharing a last lingering kiss. Then his jaw tightened and he swung off into the darkness.

"Mom! I'm back from school!" There was no immediate answer. Then she heard an absent-minded call from upstairs.

"Hmmm? Buffy, is that you?"

"Mom?" She shucked off her book bag so it landed carelessly on the floor and bounded up the stairs. She found her mother in her room, reading glasses perched on her nose while she squinted at a slew of catalogs scattered around her on the bed. Mrs. Summers looked up as Buffy came in and glanced, startled, at the clock by her bed.

"Buffy? You're late! Or is it early by your standards? I was busy going through these art catalogs trying to decide on the layout for our next gallery opening. I completely lost track of time. I'm sorry." She shoved aside the papers.

"What's the sorry? You're a working mom. No big." She sat down on the bed, accidentally crushing one of the catalogs.

"But I forgot to set out dinner."

"Like I said, no big. I'll just nuke a plate."

She got up just as her mother made a slight throat-clearing noise. "So how was school?"

"School? Um, the usual. Teachers forcing us to learn tons of meaningless knowledge against our will. Sheer mental torture wrapped in hours of staggering boredom. You?"

"Productive day of work surprisingly uninterrupted by worrying about my daughter."

"No worrying? Then you're no longer wigging out over the Slayer gig? I knew you'd come around." Buffy grinned as he mother stood up and straightened her skirt.

"Ha ha. How are the others? Any chance they'll be coming over today or tomorrow? I like seeing you with your friends. Especially that Xander. He seems like such a nice boy. I worry about him sometimes," Joyce finished in a musing tone, her forehead slightly creased.

"Xander? Mr. Happy with the loud shirts? Why worry about him? If it's about the slaying, he always carries a stake now and he never goes slaying alone. He and Willow promised me." Buffy walked downstairs to fix herself dinner, her mother close behind her.

"No, it's not that. I called his house a couple of times when I couldn't get hold of you. His father sounds so mean and surly. It makes me wonder what kind of home life Xander has. He did mention something about his folks not being the sort he would share secrets with. He sounded a little, I don't know, scared at the idea of letting them into the secret."

"I don't think Xander's scared of his parents. I'm not sure what his folks are like, really."

"You're not?" It struck Joyce as odd that Buffy should be so ignorant of the domestic life of one of her closest friends. "Why not? Don't you think that's something you should know?"

Buffy's brows scrunched together as she pulled leftovers out of the fridge. Why didn't she know more about Xander? Willow was always forthcoming in telling about her day. She babbled nonstop—usually when she'd had way too much caffeine. Xander was a gabbler, too, but somehow talk about his family never came up in conversation.

Joyce noted her daughter's confusion. "Well? Why the lack of information on Xander Harris?"

"Um, I honestly don't know, mom. Xander's always of the chatty but verbiage about his folks? Kinda lacking in day-to-day talking. Do you want me to fix you a plate?"

"No, I ate earlier. About Xander—maybe that's something you should fix," Joyce said pointedly.

"Yeah, I guess." She was ashamed of her ignorance. She made such a big noise to Giles and Kendra about how much her friends meant to her and she didn't know the first thing about Xander other than how his goofy smile lit up a room or the way his jokes had a way of easing the tension. [Well, maybe those are the important things. Way more important than what his mom and dad do for a living.]

[_Lousy excuse for lack of knowledge, if you ask me._]

[Whose side are you on?]

[_Uh, there's only one side in here unless you're channeling Dionne Warwick and her Psychic Friends Network._]

Her mother interrupted her train of thought. "Was there anything else happening tonight? You're home late. Did you and the others have a meeting?" Joyce opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of cranberry juice.

"Yep. Nothing about demons, though. This was about…something else." She was a little uneasy about this. Her mother had problems with Angel and learning about the people who cursed him with his soul would only remind the older Summers woman about Angel's non-human status.

"Really? Then why were you so late?"

Buffy sighed as the microwave pinged letting her know her food was hot. "This was…we're not sure what it is. It-it's not involving a demon, exactly."

"Exactly what _does_ it involve?" When her daughter retreated to the dining room table, Joyce followed her. "Buffy."

"I know, Mom. I'm not hiding anything. It's just…kinda weird. We think Willow's computer teacher may not be entirely on the level. We found out she may be part of a gypsy tribe."

"Gypsies?" Joyce's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Now she'd heard everything. "Well, that is…odd. But I don't see why that should keep you after school. So she has an unusual background…"

"Mom, it's more than that." Joyce looked at her daughter's lowered face and shifted her chair closer. There was more going on here than an unusual family tree. She knew her daughter wasn't prejudiced; she'd reared Buffy better than that. So what was the problem? "Did I ever tell you how Angel got his soul?"

"Um, I think so. You said there was a curse, something about gypsies." Her eyes widened. "Oh. Is _that_ what this is about? This woman is one of _those_ people?"

"Got it in one. In fact, we think she's descended from the original gypsies that stuck Angel's soul back in the first place."

"I see. So what's she doing here in Sunnydale? Is she checking on Angel?"

Buffy stabbed her fork into a piece of meat and waved the morsel in the air. "That's the verdict. Only we're not sure what she's checking for. The others think she may be more interested in checking out the duo that is Buffy and Angel." She popped the bit of food into her mouth and chewed enthusiastically.

"You mean it's you that's got her so curious. And you say this woman has been posing as a computer teacher?" She tried to recall whether she met this woman during Parent/Teacher night. Then a stray memory prodded her. "What's her name?"

"Didn't I mention? She's Ms. Calendar, Jenny Calendar."

"Wait, I know her! Well, I mean, I met her. She came in the library the day Kendra left. She left quickly when she saw Mr. Giles had company so we weren't formally introduced. Mr. Giles seemed disappointed that she took off so fast but I think she was thrown by finding me there. He told me she probably wanted to talk about things slaying related and couldn't discuss them freely in my presence. It was quite a blow to find out one of your teachers also knew about the slaying before I did." Joyce let a tiny bit of pique surface in her voice.

"Well, Ms. Calendar's a technopagan and we needed her help when Willow's online date turned out to be a demon robot."

Joyce blinked as she tried to absorb that bizarre statement. "A demon what? Did you say demon robot? It wasn't another version of Ted, was it?"

"Nope. Just an ancient demon that got trapped in a robot body. I slayed it last year."

"Ah. Good for you then," Joyce replied in a distracted fashion. "And Ms. Calendar helped you?"

"That she did. That's why we don't know what to make of this whole gypsy clan business. Giles and Angel are gonna have a little powwow with her tomorrow; see what she's got to say for herself." Buffy resumed clearing her plate.

"If it's important, will you let me know what's going on?" Joyce prodded.

"Yes, Mom." She finished her meal and took her empty plate to the kitchen. "Now I gotta go suit up for the slaying. I'll see you later, okay?"

Joyce called after Buffy as she trotted upstairs. "Are you going alone, tonight? You'll have one of the others with you?"

Buffy called back. "Sure!" No need to tell her mother the other person was going to be Angel…

Willow was hard at work at her computer when she heard the gentle rapping on her windowpane. She looked up and smiled when she saw the familiar face of Angel staring solemnly at her. Opening the window, she whispered, "Angel! Hey! I didn't think I was going to be seeing you again tonight. Shouldn't you be patrolling with Buffy?"

"She can take things solo for one night, Willow." He pitched his voice equally low. He remembered what Willow had said about not having boys in her room. He could smell that this room hadn't seen any male company other than himself and he was frankly a little baffled by it. Willow may have been shy but she was very pretty and extremely smart. He thought she'd be a fine catch for any boy. Too bad Xander Harris was completely oblivious. Angel had noticed how Willow's eyes followed the boy whenever he was around. He didn't see what made Harris so special except that he was singularly brave. But the boy was as dumb as a stump when it came to women if he couldn't see what a terrific girl Willow was.

Then Angel saw the picture of Jenny Calendar on the computer screen and nodded towards it. "Any luck with Ms. Calendar?"

"Um, not really. After you and Buffy took off, Giles told me what she'd told him at their dinner. Everything checks out: her schooling, her teacher credentials, all that. She was in New York University teaching Computer Sciences up until 1996." She peered at the screen, frowned and tapped a key, bringing up an enlarged view of an inset. "That's funny."

Angel moved behind her. "What's funny?"

"Angel, we spoke about the hover-y thing, remember?" Willow waved him back. "Well, Ms. Calendar was a whiz at teaching. She even won commendations. Then, in the middle of the school year, she suddenly applied for a transfer to Los Angeles that same year. Her transcript lists the reason as 'Family business.' Then in 1997 she transfers again to Sunnydale." She turned her head to see Angel frozen in the middle of her room. "A-Angel? What is it? Is this t-the kind of thing you were looking for?"

"Yes, it is. I was living in New York in 1996. Then…I moved to Los Angeles that same year. I moved to Sunnydale in 1997."

There was more to the story than that, things he didn't want Willow to know. How could he explain to her how he'd been sent to help Buffy and how he'd reached that decision after seeing her when she was only 15? The notion that he'd been following and spying on Buffy back then wouldn't look good to anyone. He could only imagine what Mrs. Summers would say about it.

He recalled how his soul had responded to the tiny blond girl as she perched on the steps of Hemery High sucking on a lollipop. Her very attitude was one of a carefree Lolita and he'd wondered at the odd pull he'd felt towards her. Angel hadn't been attracted to a woman for an untold number of years. The idea that this child should stir him was disturbing, to say the least.

Later, when he realized she was a Slayer, he'd been shocked and frightened. She was sworn to kill his kind. The last thing he should do was get involved with her; she'd kill him on sight. Yet that strange yearning had continued. His aching soul was both roused and soothed by her and he had to understand why. Before he knew it, he'd been running back to Whistler declaring his desire to help her.

Willow wondered what Angel was thinking about. After his short revelation, he had lapsed back into stillness. He certainly brought impenetrability to a whole new level. "So you're in New York, then Los Angeles, then Sunnydale and Ms. Calendar's flight plan follows yours. I guess we can rule out coincidences, huh?" She sagged slightly as she realized what this meant about her teacher.

Angel noticed the sadness. "I'm sorry, Willow. You must be really fond of this Ms. Calendar."

"Yes. No. I mean, that's not… She's a good teacher, ya know? She's really great at what she does and takes time out to encourage the kids and help the ones who aren't always that fast on the draw and you can tell she really enjoys what she does and she's one of the few who doesn't think Buffy's some sort of criminal 'cause of the trouble she's been in and I don't want to think she had a-a secret agenda for all that 'cause you can't fake that kind of caring!" The rapid stream of words came to an abrupt halt and Willow's lower lip trembled. She looked both angry and about to cry.

"Willow, calm down. I'm not saying she's a fake. Her credentials are real. You've found that out yourself and you say she's a good teacher so we know that's on the level. It's just all the moving around she's been doing that should have us concerned. She's definitely been on my trail for a few years now and the Kalderash aren't exactly my friends. If she's after me, it can't be for anything good—and we can't ignore the fact that she may be interested in Buffy as well."

"You're right. I know that. I just think when we all talk to her tomorrow…"

Angel raised an eyebrow. "We? It's just going to be Giles and me."

Her lip firmed and she tilted her chin up, a stubborn expression settling on her face. "Nuh uh, buddy. I think Ms. Calendar deserves to have somebody on her side when you two go all Hill Street Blues-y on her. I want her to know she's got friends in her corner."

"But I don't think—"

"Hey, I've got Resolve Face on, mister." She pointed at her face. "You don't want to mess with that."

His expression was puzzled and just a little amused. "Resolve Face?"

Her semi-fierce look melted slightly as she giggled. "That's what Xander always calls it. When I get this face on, nobody messes with me." She resumed the stern expression and it was his turn to smile.

"All right. But if it turns out that Ms. Calendar _is_ a Kalderash gypsy, things could get dicey. They were capable of throwing some mean curses back in the day. You sure you want to get in the middle of that?"

Her look of resolution faltered a little; she hadn't considered that. "Um, well, let's cross that bridge when we come to it. But I'm still coming to the library tomorrow," she added.

She was determined and Angel silently admired her courage. It wasn't the same as Buffy's but Willow was obviously a tough customer when she wanted to be. He strode to the window. "Thanks again for the help." He recalled another reason he'd come and said, "Since you were talking about Xander, I wanted to know something."

"What?" She knew he and Xander weren't on good terms and wondered what Angel wanted to know.

Keeping his face purposely bland Angel asked, "What's this about Xander and Inca mummy girls and insect women?"

Buffy was nervous all day. She wasn't that great at hiding what she felt and she was glad she didn't have to take Ms. Calendar's computer class. She wasn't sure she'd be able to disguise her nervousness in front of that woman. And Angel had been really quiet during patrol last night. Well, Angel was always quiet but this time it had been as if he'd been distracted, his mind elsewhere than on her. Every time she pressed him about it, he'd gotten all avoid-y on her. She figured it was about the upcoming showdown with Ms. Calendar and finally dropped the matter.

Giles was equally disquieted. He didn't want to believe ill of this woman not when he'd gotten so involved with her. Ms. Calendar seemed so wholesome and normal—save for the technopagan practice, of course. For the first time he could understand Xander Harris's frustration when it came to dating on the Hellmouth. How did you know what sort of person you were dealing with until they showed their claws?

Entering her class, he paused to take her in. Ms. Calendar was dressed in a trim red blouse and loosely fitting brown skirt that brought out her dark coloring. She looked so—normal and genuinely concerned with her students. Could she really be a fraud? When class was dismissed, he squared his shoulders and dove into the fray. "J-Jenny, might I have a word?"

Her answering smile was open and warm. "You can have as many as you like, Rupert. What is it? Is it about our date?"

He was taken aback for a moment. He'd forgotten the arrangements they had made to meet again. Then he smiled as affably as he could to offset suspicion. "N-no, although I am looking forward to it. I wished to discuss another matter." He pulled her aside from the stream of students passing by them. "I've been giving due consideration to your conversation about Angelus and I think your concerns may be valid," he said in a low voice.

She was startled. Rupert was worried? Could it be true what the elder woman had said about Angel's soul? Feeling her stomach clenching at what this might mean, she tried to speak calmly. "Really? What brought this on? You didn't seem so convinced when I spoke to you."

"Foolish pride, I'm afraid. I thought it was an attack on my abilities as a Watcher. When I had time to consider your words rationally, I realized you might have due cause to be concerned. I'd like you to meet me in the library after hours so we can discuss and research." He watched her consider the request and then she nodded, smiling.

"Of course, Rupert. I'll be glad to help. Will any of the others be there? Willow, for instance?"

"No, it'll be just the two of us." It pained him to lie to her. But he and Angel needed to get to the bottom of this.

The book was laid out on the library table. Giles thought it was a bit too conspicuously set apart from the others but Angel had assured him it looked fine. He wiped his hands again and was glad of the tea he'd brewed. It would give him something to do with his hands and steady his nerves.

When the door swung open, he looked up, expecting to see Ms. Calendar. Instead his Slayer and Willow stood there and he frowned. "Willow, Buffy. Why are you here? Ms. Calendar will be here any minute."

"That makes the timing of the perfect, then 'cause we want to be here when we hear what she has to say for herself." Buffy sat down defiantly at the large library table and flipped through one of the books idly.

Giles's lips thinned. "I thought I made it clear that Angel and I would be handling this."

Willow said sharply, "Yep. Got that. And I thought _I_ made it clear that there's no way I'm letting Ms. Calendar face the firing squad alone."

Giles replied with annoyance. "Willow, there's going to be no firing squad, as you put it. We just need to find out…"

"Find out what?" Jenny pushed open the door to see her favorite student, Buffy and Giles apparently engaged in some kind of face-off. They started when they saw her, Giles looking guilty, Willow defiant and worried and Buffy with a slightly furious expression.

"W-we need to find out more about Angel and his soul. The Watchers Diaries show precious little on the subject," Giles covered smoothly. He gestured at several books scattered on the library table. "Jenny, you said you'd been looking through my books about Angelus. Could you pick out the ones you've seen?"

Jenny moved to the table, unaware of Buffy's anxious gaze flitting about the library. The blond knew Angel was around somewhere. But where? She edged towards the weapons alcove, peeking inside to see if the vampire was hiding there. Nope. The place was like a small closet with nowhere to hide and she didn't see him anywhere.

Jenny picked up the book, one page opened to show an elegant sketch of Angel next to a detailed engraving of the tattoo on his right shoulder blade. "Yes, this is the one I saw. One of them, I mean," she added hurriedly.

"Ah. You're certain? I know he's been written about extensively but this book holds the most information of those in my own personal collection and it's the only one with a clear picture."

"Yes, I'm sure this was one."

"Except you never touched that book, Ms. Calendar. I can tell. Your odor is nowhere on it." The smooth, even voice came from above them and all four sets of eyes turned towards the library's upper balcony. Angel stood there, leaning on the balcony, bending his eyes on the computer teacher.

Jenny stepped back, her mouth dry. Angel shifted his stance slightly. Suddenly he was darting down the stairs in a curiously loping, gliding movement that reminded Willow of nothing so much as a springing tiger. The blur of movement ended with the vampire standing a few feet away from the startled teacher. He wasn't close enough to be in her personal space but his eyes hadn't moved from her and it was plain he'd catch her before she made it to the doors if she took it into her head to run.

She stammered, "R-Rupert? What is this? What's going on?" The question met with a snort from Buffy and a weary sigh from Giles. The vampire never moved at all while Willow worried her lower lip, now no longer as confident as when she had spoken to Angel only last night.

"Calendar. Kalderash. You didn't change it much, did you?" Angel murmured. "But then I suppose you never thought we'd figure it out." When the woman remained unmoving, the vampire continued. "We had Willow do a background check on you, Ms. Calendar. You moved around quite a bit in the last two years. East coast, west coast—and you seem to have been following me the whole time. Care to tell us why?"

Jenny's eyes flashed and the mock confusion she'd adopted fell away from her. "Oh, I see what this is. I'm undergoing an inquisition, am I?"

Willow blurted out, "No! D-definitely no inquisitioning here! We j-just want to get the f-facts. We're not accusing you of anything."

"I think you're accusing me of a lot," she snapped.

Buffy added, "I haven't yet. But give me a second and I'll chip right in."

"Is it true, Jenny?" Giles's quiet voice interrupted. She looked at him to see the repressed pain deep in his green eyes.

She hesitated and then a sigh welled up from her. Her demeanor underwent a subtle transformation as majesty and a kind of grief settled on her face. "Yes. It's true. I am Janna of the Kalderash people."

The library doors flew open and Xander sailed in, a box of donuts held in one hand. "Folks, I come bearing sugary treats." Seeing the tense faces, he babbled, "Ah, just in time for the showdown at the O.K. Corral, I see."

Jenny—or Janna—swung back to Giles, her newly won calm vanishing at the circle of Scoobies surrounding her. "What's the matter, Rupert? You couldn't talk to me alone? You had to drag in your entire gang to do this?"

"I assure you, Jenny, I very much wanted to confront you with no one but Angel. But Buffy was worried that y-you might intend him some harm and the others are here for her sake as well."

"Not me!" Willow cried. "Oh, I'm not saying I'm not in your corner, Buffy. But I totally wanted to let M-Ms. Calendar know I wasn't blaming her for anything. I'm not on board with the whole take-a-poke-at-the-teacher game they've got set up. I-I just wanted to help you, Ms. Calendar," she trailed off miserably.

Jenny smiled and reached out to grasp Willow's arm. "It's much appreciated, Willow. But it's unnecessary." She sighed again and gestured at the table. "I suppose I do owe you all an explanation. To tell the truth, it'll be a relief to stop pretending."

Pretending? The sadness flickered in Giles's eyes and was gone again before anyone noticed. Had it all been pretense with her then? Not only her part in their lives but her closeness to him? It was too personal a matter for him to ask in front of the others. Besides, they had far weightier matters to discuss.

Jenny sat at the table and picked up the book again. "You know that Angel pretty much vanished from public view, don't you, Giles?" The others had seated themselves as well. Only Buffy and Angel remained standing.

"If this is the part where you tell us about his soul re-installment, we're way ahead of you, lady," Buffy rapped out.

"Buffy," Giles warned.

"Rupert, please. She has a right to be upset. What you don't realize is that while your Watchers Council may have lost sight of him, my people have been keeping tabs on him since 1898 when we first cursed him." She said "we" as if she'd been part of the original gypsies who had caught Angelus in their trap. The word wasn't lost on Giles. She must take the curse very seriously to consider herself part of that ancient scenario.

Buffy was as aware of the slip as her Watcher. "Why? Did you want to make sure the curse would stick? It's not as if these things have an expiration date, you know."

"We know. B-but there is something else to the curse, something even Angelus—"

"Angel," Buffy countered, the hostility clear in her stance.

Jenny flicked a glance at the vampire who hadn't moved since the others sat down. His face had settled into its usual unmoving impassivity. Was he re-experiencing the night his path had crossed with the _vaida_ and tribal wise woman as she'd cursed him? Was he angry at her? She couldn't tell and the uncertainty made her nervous. She turned back to the others including a visibly upset Buffy Summers.

"There was an addition to the curse, one we weren't aware of until it was too late." She took a deep breath. "This isn't exactly a short story. Are you sure you want to hear all of it?"

"I think we'd better," Giles replied.

"The 16-year-old girl Angelus…" she caught Buffy's fulminating glance and amended her statement. "The girl Angel killed was favored by our clan. She was meant to marry a 52-year-old man, wealthy and of high standing."

"An 16-year-old marrying some guy half a century old? What a cradle robber!" Xander exclaimed as he picked up a lemon-filled donut and crammed it in his mouth.

"Arranged marriages like that were the custom, Xander," Jenny pointed out. "The girls were promised off at a young age to keep them out of trouble and hold down on unwanted pregnancies with young boys who couldn't take care of a family properly. It was the tradition at the time."

"But still… Arranged to marry some older guy? I'm with Xander here. I mean, ewww," Willow added.

Jenny shook her head, dismissing their lack of acceptance. "Anyway, the girl, Yelena, had been secretly carrying on with a young man named Afron. He loved her desperately and begged the _vaida_—the tribal chieftain—to marry her. The man refused in spite of the boy's pleas. Afron tried to abduct Yelena but was caught and severely beaten for his pains."

In spite of her dislike of the woman, Buffy found herself drawn into the story. "Then what happened? I'm guessing they didn't wind up getting married and happily ever aftering."

"Angel happened," Jenny said and the others fell silent again as she continued with her story. "Afron made no more attempts to win Yelena and the others thought he had accepted his fate. Gypsies are a very pragmatic people for the most part. When the demon killed Yelena, Afron hated him. But he hated the Rom who had taken Yelena from him even more. There were some who said he thought that if Yelena had been given to him as he'd demanded instead of a feeble old man he could have protected her. Nonsense, of course," she snorted. "As if anyone could have stood against Angelus."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest the name again when Angel spoke for the first time since Jenny began her explanation. "She's right. I would have killed him, too. Or just tied him up and made him watch what I did to her and then killed him."

Willow gulped at the statement, so coldly rendered. "Deadboy, you give a new definition to the phrase 'live entertainment,' don't you?" Xander sniped.

"T-then what happened after Y-Yelena died?" Willow stammered.

"The girl was the daughter of the _vaida._ Her murder inflamed the tribe's people. Afron swore revenge, as did the entire clan. It was he who went off to find the means to afflict Angelus and no one thought to question it when he returned from his journey with curse in hand. He'd claimed to have found a sorcerer, squandered all his life savings for the curse and promised it would make the Beast suffer."

"The Beast? Liking that nickname, Deadboy!"

Buffy yelled, "Shut up, Xander!" and glared at the dark-haired Scooby. Xander ignored it and continued to munch on the donuts.

"What the elder woman didn't know, what none of them did, was that the sorcerer's curse came with a rider attached, words in a cryptic language that nobody understood. But they were all too grief-stricken to care or ask too many questions. Only after the spell was cast did Afron reveal how he had tricked them."

Giles pricked up his ears at her description. "Tricked? Y-you're saying the curse w-was a fake? But Angel's soul—"

"—Is very much there. We made certain of that. But the addition means that if he ever experiences one moment of happiness, just a single instance of pure bliss, then his soul is gone. Angelus returns."

This time the stillness was total and then the room erupted in questions and babblings from all sides. "Gone?" Xander squeaked. "As in gone and we have Psycho Angel on our hands? What the hell?!"

"He w-wanted Angel to stop suffering? W-why would he do that? I don't get it. That doesn't make any sense," Willow asked.

"I told you. He hated Angelus but he hated the entire tribe who'd robbed him of Yelena even more. From the moment we were told the truth about the curse, we have been forced to follow Angelus, watch him from a distance to make certain he never realizes that happiness. From then on, we could no longer follow our established routes. Our way of life had changed forever. We have been tied to the vampire just as surely as he's been tied to us. That is _our_ curse," Jenny stated, her every word laced with bitterness.

"Whoa. Heavy stuff," Xander stated. The seriousness of the statement was spoiled by a small belch and he brushed crumbs from his mouth onto one of the books on the table. Giles grimaced and moved the tome beyond his reach before the boy did it any further damage.

"So that's why you're here in Sunnydale? Y-you are the latest in your family line t-to hold this vigil lest Angelus returns?" the Watcher queried.

"That's not going to happen," Angel murmured. "I haven't felt a moment of happiness since I was cursed. All the people I killed, all their faces—I see them practically every night. Those Romany knew how to level a curse." There was no anger in his voice only deep resignation.

"That's what we thought. B-but there have been signs that something has changed. The elder woman of my clan who monitors Angel's soul says that the darkness surrounding him is no longer as dense as it was. She says that his misery lightens."

Buffy had drawn closer to Angel but the vampire held her off with one hand, his face visibly baffled. "Like I said, not gonna happen. The only times I feel close to happiness…" He stopped and turned to Buffy, the realization spreading across his features. "The only times I approach happiness are when I'm with you, Buffy."

A flare of heat swept over her when she heard that. Buffy stared up into his face, joy flitting across her own. "Me?" Then she understood and clutched at his hand. "T-that's why you're here. You're not just watching Angel. You're keeping tabs on me, too. Aren't you?" Buffy glared at the woman.

Jenny didn't flinch. "I'm afraid so. If Angel knows true happiness again because of you, Buffy—it would be terrible for us all."

"Especially for you. Angelus still remembers what the clan did to him and my inner demon isn't happy about it. If I lost my soul, I'd come after you. That's why you get so frightened when you're around me," Angel surmised.

"She's not the only one, De-Angel," Xander said when he caught Buffy's look.

"Oh, Buffy. This, this is just awful," Willow murmured, her green eyes alight with sympathy. The redhead asked, "D-didn't the Kalderash ever try to change the curse so they didn't have to keep following Angel all the time? It must really suck for you folks to have to keep trailing after him like this. W-what about your families and kids and stuff? Isn't it really inconvenient for you to shift them around every time Angel goes on the move?"

Jenny sighed. "It is. Most of us marry within the clan because the family is aware of what we have to do. But many of us never marry so the burden is borne by us alone. I-it's easier that way, makes moving at a moment's notice quicker and more manageable. And believe me, we have thought of tampering with the curse. After over a century of trailing after Angelus like soldiers on the march, how could we not desire that it end? But the sorcerer who gave us the curse was unknown to us and Afron wouldn't tell who he was. When the truth was finally beaten out of him and the gypsies tried to seek the magician out, he'd vanished. Without his knowledge, tampering with the curse was simply too risky. We didn't know if we could fix it without jogging loose the soul."

"And you've been in Sunnydale since Angel got here. You've been spying on him and posing as our friend. You knew I was—with him. Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Buffy ground out. [Yeah, sooner. Before I knew him. Before I fell in love with him. Before I got my heart so twisted up over him just the idea of losing him hurts too much to think about.] Angel must have sensed her distress. He squeezed her hand gently and she smiled tremulously as she responded in kind.

"It wasn't that easy," Jenny began.

Buffy cut her off. "What's of the difficult? You knew who I was. You could have just said, 'Ms. Summers, I know you're a Slayer. I'm a gypsy and I know about Angel's soul. He can't be happy because he'll go all grrrr and kill people again.' This was so hard to tell us?" She wanted to scream at the woman for doing this to her. Hadn't it been hard enough to be with Angel without having this load added to the pile of suckage that was her life?

"I hoped it wasn't true, that Angel didn't love you the way you obviously loved him. I got too close to you, Buffy—to you all. I honestly didn't want to hurt you by telling you this. And the Kalderash has hidden this secret for so long. We simply don't discuss this with the _gadje._"

"The God who?" Xander asked.

"_Gadje._ Outsiders. People like you," she elaborated.

Xander nodded. "Oh. Got it. That's us, the ultimate outsiders. Geeks and freaks in the house."

"She's not talking about social outcasts, Xander," Giles corrected. "She means people who are not of the Romany. They've been beyond the pale of the general public for centuries. They have rules and codes of behavior that make them close ranks against normal society. Jenny was probably forbidden to tell us about this."

"Not forbidden per se. There aren't any laws against talking to outsiders. It's just that we've been persecuted and misunderstood for so long the habit of keeping ourselves secret is pretty much ingrained. I didn't speak out because of habit not stricture."

Angel moved closer so that he stood beside her but not so close so as to invade her space. "So what happens now? What do you intend to do?"

"I don't know. Now that you know the truth, what happens next is up to you and Buffy. I was only sent to watch."

The vampire bent his head and walked towards the door. As always, Buffy couldn't just let him leave. "Angel, wait! This is serious. We have to sort this out. We can't just—"

Angel cut her off, albeit as gently as he could. "Buffy, you heard her. Until we can figure out a way to keep you safe, there is no we." The light had gone out of her eyes, deadening them to a dull gray. A master of bearing his own misery, he was unable to tolerate hers. Angel drew her close and kissed her with all the passion of his heart, uncaring of the people watching. The embrace grew fervent until they were both dizzy. He pulled away from her and whispered, "I'm sorry." Then he exited the library without another word.

Buffy's heart sank. She hadn't had many goodbye kisses in her life but that certainly felt like one. Angel was giving up and before they even had a chance to discuss things! She didn't know whether to be angry at him or the teacher/gypsy woman who'd just wrecked her life—again.

Willow nudged Xander and stood up, straightening out her plain green-and-gray skirt. "C'mon, Xander. W-we should be getting Audi. We've got classes tomorrow and stuff and—stuff. 'Bye, Giles."

Xander started and snatched up the donuts. Pausing, he removed three and laid them on the table. "Um, G-man, I got you the jellies 'cause I know you like 'em. So you and Ms. Calendar can just, uh, you know, make yourself a little night snack 'cause you must have things to go over and things and I'll just be shutting up and going now." He snatched up the box and ran after Willow.

Buffy avoided looking at either Ms. Calendar or Giles as she picked up her things. Giles made an effort to sound out his charge. "Buffy, I know this is bad news but perhaps you should take Angel's advice."

"Giles. Not now. T-this is too much for one evening. I'm just gonna… I'll see you tomorrow." The library doors swung shut leaving the two adults staring at each other. Giles began gathering up the books he'd left on the table, preparing to return them to their proper places.

The silence was stretching out between them, threatening to become unbearable and wounding. "Rupert, I-I'm more sorry than I can say that I didn't tell you sooner."

"Yes, you should have. For Buffy's sake if not my own. Do you have any idea how devastating this news is for her? For better or worse, she loves Angel."

"You make it sound as if they were married." Her attempt at humor fell flat as Giles's stiff expression turned harsh.

"I'm glad you can be so amused. I can't imagine what it must be like to know your lover is a creature unlike other men, that there are things he can never give you or experience with you simply because he isn't human. Think what it must be like for a Slayer to fall in love with one of her sworn enemies against all precedent, reason, sense and the advice of her friends and family."

He paused to rally his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice had attained a certain measure of calm. "The calling of a Slayer is a desperately lonely one. In spite of Buffy's companions helping her, I can sense her isolation. Angel's situation makes him uniquely suited to her and I feel that their love strengthens her in a way the rest of us do not. But still the nature of their relationship brings her a pain that none of us can alleviate—and that anguish might have been avoided if you'd only come forward sooner." He walked from her to his office, carrying the heavy books to replace them on the shelves.

Jenny gritted her jaw and followed him, determined to make him see her point of view. "What was I supposed to say, Rupert? I didn't follow Angel twenty-four hours of the day or night. The fact that he was here in Sunnydale fighting evil was a surprise. Finding out that he was doing it alongside Buffy was an even greater shock. I didn't know who or what she was or how she felt about him until it was far too late and by then…" She stopped and slumped against the doorjamb. "By then, there were other complications," she muttered.

"What other complications?" He sat at his small office desk and folded his hands.

"You and me," she replied bluntly.

He raised his eyebrows. This, he hadn't expected. "Y-you and I? I wasn't aware my presence posed a problem for you." He recalled what he had thought earlier and felt his heart shrivel slightly. "You spoke of pretense earlier. Was that what our supposed relationship was? A pretense so you could get close to and spy on Buffy?"

"No. T-that was the complication." Jenny gnawed her lip as she struggled to articulate her emotions. "I was—am—genuinely fond of you, Rupert. And everything about the outside world is wonderful and fascinating. People have this romantic idea of gypsies leading this vagabond and carefree existence, going wherever our fancy takes us, getting a thrill over stealing and putting one over on stupid outsiders and other nonsense. But our society is as hidebound and highly structured as any other. More so even. Men and women have set places within its walls and at times I felt so smothered, I could have screamed. Even though following Angelus is supposed to be our curse, I was actually relieved when I was picked. It meant I could escape."

She stepped closer, a smile drifting over her face as she recalled what her first taste of freedom was like. "On the outside, among all of you, I could do as I wanted, what I pleased. I could study things that were forbidden to the women of my clan. I could talk to men, flirt with them, without fear of reprisals or rebuke from my elders. It was heady; it was glorious." Her smile slipped as she thought of her uncle. "And it wasn't real."

That odd pang struck him again. "Your life was fake? Or only the associations you formed within it?"

She focused on the chill in his voice. She didn't know Rupert all that well. She'd only gone out with him on a few dates, after all. But she could sense the tenderness that lay deeply within him, had seen his remorse when Eyghon had threatened her life and knew now that his coldness stemmed from the pain she'd given him rather than hurt pride.

"I meant that I was operating under false pretenses, that I was lying to people I—cared about. It wasn't fair of me to come to you when I wasn't free, when I had a mission that interfered with yours. I was in danger of forgetting why I was doing all this in the first place. In the end, I was more constrained by my people than ever because of what was happening with Angel. I was caught in a double trap. I couldn't tell my people what was truly holding me back from dealing with the situation and I couldn't tell you about the Kalderash."

Jenny stepped closer. She wanted nothing more than to touch Rupert, if only on the hand, to see whether he shrank from her. But she didn't dare. She felt as awkward and unsure of herself as a schoolgirl and she hated it. "I do care about you, Rupert. More than I realized and more than I ever wanted to. It made dealing with this, this, whole Angel mess an absolute hell. And I couldn't be blasé about lying to my clan about it the way you are to the Council. The Kalderash clan hasn't been a part of my life like your Council training. They _are_ my life and my rebellion, unlike yours, has only lasted a few short months."

Giles bristled at the implication. "Are you trying to draw a parallel between the arcane, mystical existence of the Council—"

"—And a hidden society of Romany that stretches back countless generations? Yeah, guess I am," she finished tartly. She sat on the desk and stared down at him, her arms folded. "Rupert, I know that keeping quiet the way I did could have had dire consequences and I'm relieved the truth is finally known although this wasn't the way I would have chosen to spill the beans. But I'm not asking for forgiveness for following my sworn duty. Only a little understanding."

He removed his glasses and began polishing, his common reaction to stress. "I do understand. Believe me. It's just—I have a duty to my Slayer and things are bad enough for her as it is without this needless difficulty added to her burdens." He finished the polishing but didn't put the glasses back to their proper place only continued to hold them dangling from his fingers.

"I realize this business of Angel's soul is in no way your fault. It was done by your ancestors and you're as helpless to fix the curse as Buffy is to control her feelings for Angel. But as I said, I have a duty to help her and this is going to be unspeakably painful for her. I don't know how I can help her to handle things."

Jenny was sympathetic and this time she did touch his hand, gently removing the glasses and laying them safely out of the way. "You care about her, don't you?"

He nodded, sighing heavily. "I do."

"Then I am sorry, Rupert. I wish I knew how I could help." She squeezed his hand and he smiled faintly at her.

"I have a feeling the others will be eager to do their part."

Willow ran after Buffy. The Slayer only had a little head start but she'd already managed to outpace her two friends. "Buffy, wait up!"

"Yeah, Buff. These boots are made for walking not running the marathon!" Xander called out. It took heavy jogging on both their parts before they caught up with the despondent Slayer.

"Buffy, I-I can't imagine how you must feel."

"Good, 'cause I'm not sure how I feel," Buffy snapped, her head bent towards the ground. "I mean, I know how I feel. I'm angry and upset and there's bound to be tears coming up soon and there's the whole part where I'm wondering how long Angel intends to do the avoid-y act on account of he may lose his soul."

"I know. Poor Angel," Willow said, her voice laden with sympathy as she patted Buffy on the arm.

"Poor Angel? How about poor Ms. Calendar? It couldn't be easy for her to hang around Deadboy knowing he could lose his soul accessory any time and suck on her like she's a milkshake."

"Xander, that kinda is Ms. Calendar's fault. She should have told us Angel's soul could go bye-bye. Not the kind of secret you should keep," Willow remarked as she strove to keep the piece between her two best friends.

"Xander, doesn't it bother you the tiniest little bit that Ms. Calendar lied to us? That she wasn't the person she said she was?" Buffy asked.

"C'mon, Buffy. We all have secrets. It's not like you came out and told me you were the Slayer in school that first day you arrived," Xander shot back.

"That's because I didn't want to be the Slayer. Being the Slayer got my old school gym burned down, me expelled and my Watcher killed. I wanted to be Normal Girl again not Buffy the Freak Show."

"Sorta like Ms. Calendar wanted to be?" Xander pointed out meaningfully. "I get the feeling she was loving the whole normalcy routine, too."

Buffy protested, "That's different! She was hiding something that could have gotten us all killed!"

The brunette boy was quick to seize on Buffy's slip. "At last she sees the light! Angel is a killer! A vampire who kills people! I was beginning to think that part of Deadboy sorta slipped your attention."

Buffy clenched her hands. Not for the first time she really wanted to punch Xander for his anti-Angel remarks. Once again she restrained the urge. "You know what? I'm not gonna talk with you about this, Alexander Harris. You've always been too big on the hate-Angel train so this convo is officially over." She picked up the pace and began walking rapidly away from them again.

"Buffy, please." Willow pulled on the blonde Slayer's arm. "I can't imagine h-how awful this must be for you. But there's got to be a way around this. When I get the chance, I'll do the research thing with Giles and we'll look through all his spell books until we find something except for the really dark magic books 'cause he never lets me near those."

This was surprising news to Buffy. "You and Giles have been practicing magic? How come I didn't know about this?"

Xander was equally taken aback. "Same here, Wills. I had no idea you were a Sabrina-in-training. When have you and the Watcherman been making with the hocus pocus?"

"Well, not so much of the practicing really. Just a little studying during our off hours. After the things with Amy's mom a-and Moloch and Xander being H-hyena Boy and Eyghon, I told Giles it might be of the good if he weren't the only spellcaster in the bunch. So he's been showing me a few things—nothing big," she added hastily.

"So can we expect you to throw flaming balls of death from you hands any time, Wills?" Xander asked, waving his hands at her extremities.

"Uh, no. Not really up to being a human torch, Xander."

He snapped his fingers in mock disappointment. "Damn! That would have been such a cool party trick! Especially if we could set Cordelia's hair on fire."

They both laughed and Buffy drifted away from them in spirit if not in body. The problem with Angel was forgotten for the moment and she shoved her pain deep inside where it would have to stay until she could talk this out with him. She hoped Willow could come up with a solution. She prayed Giles would agree to help.

She wrapped her arms around her, warding off an imaginary chill. They just had to fix this. She couldn't bear for Angel to be deliberately unhappy but, as long as the chance existed that she might make him happy, then he would continue to stay apart from her. For Buffy, a life without Angel would be simply torture.

TBC


	10. Sorting Things Out

The vampire tossed restlessly in his sleep, his eyes darting back and forth beneath his lids.

_He was being dragged inexorably through the tangled forest and Angelus growled in fury. He simultaneously tried to dig in his heels and stumble forward to avoid being dragged as the unwavering force yanked him forward. One moment he'd been about to bed down with Darla. The next, an inexplicable compulsion to leave her had surged up in him, sending him plunging into night._

_Some bastard had cast a spell on him. Someone was pulling him against his will and the demon howled, raging at his helplessness and vowing to rend to shreds the guilty party once he got where he was going. Nobody summoned Angelus like a tame lapdog. Whoever was responsible for this insult, he would make them pay in blood._

_At last he burst forth from the trees, collapsing to his knees as the mysterious hold on him vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Before he could get up and flee, a burning sensation seized his undead heart and twisted. The fiery pain was like nothing he'd ever experienced and, for the first time since he was turned, Angelus was afraid._

_The pain ebbed away and Liam blinked, looking up. A man in antique clothing—a gypsy, his distracted mind told him, although he wasn't certain how he knew—stepped forward to stare intently into his eyes. "It hurts, yes? Good. It will hurt more." His calm words did nothing to offset the grief and greedy malice that lay upon his face._

_Liam looked around him in confusion. This place was unfamiliar and something deep in his gut told him this wasn't Galway. And yet where else could he be? He'd never been away from his home in his entire life. Where was he and who was this stranger looking at him with such unbridled hatred? "Where am I?" _

_The man looked almost pitying before the malevolence returned. "You don't remember? Everything you've done for a hundred years? In a moment, you will. The face of everyone you killed… our daughter's face… they will haunt you, and you will know what true suffering is."_

_He was panting hard but the air was doing him no good. There was that odd burning in his chest that had nothing to do with his lungs and Liam was struggling to breathe as if the action were unnatural and uncomfortable. "Killed? I, I don't…"_

_The memories came rushing back: that elegantly dressed blonde woman in the alley; hard, crushing pain in his throat stealing his breath and life at once; clawing his way up through the dirt of his own grave; his first victim, the unfortunate gravedigger who'd come to investigate the unusual noise in his own cemetery…_

_"No…no, please." Liam began to shake as the memories gathered force and tumbled over him in violent, unstoppable waves, each one a tapestry of screams, terror and gore. He grabbed his head in anguish and staggered away, trying to shake off the blood-soaked visions. But they continued, relentless and merciless, ripping at his mind until they threatened to drive him insane._

_Stumbling around the fire, he halted in shock at the sight of the mumbling woman and the girl who lay stretched out dressed in her wedding clothes on the miniature bier. His eyes drifted over the still figure, the tiny, blonde body seeming even more shrunken by death. Buffy Summers looked peaceful as if she'd just drifted off to sleep. But he could tell by the ashen cast of her features that she would never wake again._

_Joyce Summers stopped chanting and lifted her head, her features twisting. "You bastard. You killed her. Are you happy now? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!?"_

"NO!" Angel jerked awake, spastic tremors wracking every inch of his frame. God, Buffy. He swung his legs out of bed, casting his eyes wildly about his apartment as if expecting to see his beloved's lifeless body stretched on the floor. 

He was alone. It was a familiar state for him, even more so lately. Ever since he'd learned of the addition to his curse, he'd scrupulously avoided Buffy. She'd taken to showing up at his apartment at odd hours, attempting to snare him into a conversation. But he wasn't willing to talk to her or get close to her at all. He could sense her, far more easily than she could sense him, and avoiding her was easily done. Because of her constant attempts to catch him, though, he'd had to avoid his home on certain days. However, he knew many places in Sunnydale to hide during the day. That wasn't the problem.

His soul and his demon were crying out to be reunited with her. Since he'd seen her on the steps of Hemery, he'd felt joined to her in a way he couldn't explain. The only way he could define it was love and it was ripping him apart to be away from her. 

Yet his own fears and the nightmares continued unabated. This last one had been the worst. He had to stay away from Buffy. But he was meant to fight by her side, to aid her in her fight as Slayer.

[Bull. She's a Slayer. There have always been Slayers. They've always fought and without help from you, I might add.]

[_But I was brought into this by Whistler, by the higher powers, to help Buffy. I'm supposed to be with her!_]

[Uh, wrong! Whistler asked you if you wanted to become someone, to help fight on the good side. Nowhere in the contract is it mentioned that you get the right to Buffy's body.]

[_Fuck that! Buffy's mine, you little pantywaist! God, I just wish you'd lose your soul. There'd be none of this stupid mea culpa shit. I'd show that Slayer what I'm really capable of._]

Angel sighed wearily. There was Angelus, right on cue. It had been a shock upon regaining his soul to know that his inner demon was still in residence. It had been sheer torture in those early days, hearing the demon growl, sneer and whine in razor tones in his head whenever he passed up the chance to sink his fangs into a juicy, palpitating artery. Over the decades he'd managed to gain some semblance of control over his violent, monstrous id. But that mocking, hateful voice never disappeared. It lapsed into silent slumber for hours at a time but the slightest thing could rouse it. Like now. 

[I'm sick of this crap, Soul Boy. The nightmares ain't going away and neither is that hard-on. We need to get back to Buffy and get a piece of that tender Slayer meat. Bet she's hungry to be with us, too, you've kept away from her for so long. Mmmm. Think she'll beg for it like that gypsy girl did? She was a screamer, that one…]

Angel ruthlessly shut out the voice before it could go any further. Angelus had slipped up. If there was anything that would strengthen his resolve to keep away from Buffy, it would be the memory of that hapless, foolish Romany girl—that and the dream that still haunted him. He seized onto the nightmare grimly. The more he feared for Buffy, the less chance he had of experiencing happiness. No happiness, no return of Angelus.

The demon snarled in his skull and he smiled in grim satisfaction. [That's right. You're staying put.]

[_We'll see about that, Soul Boy. I'm not going anywhere and, now I know that there's a way to slip the leash, I'm going to be watching and waiting for my chance._]

Angel shuddered and looked longingly at his bed. It was broad daylight outside and now was his time to sleep. Yet he was terrified of going back to sleep. He could have grabbed a blanket and made a run for the nearest manhole cover. But he had nowhere to go, really. None of the others would want to see him, now that they knew what a threat he posed to Buffy's life, and what else was there for him in the daylight?

Angel stretched out on the bed that had become hateful to him like almost everything else in his existence and pulled the covers over his head. He shut his eyes and prayed for no more dreams.

__________

"Ms.. Summers!"

"Huh?" Buffy's head jerked upright. Mr. Enright was glaring at her and tapping his finger at the board. By the irritated look on his face, he'd been speaking to her for a bit without getting her attention.

"Glad to have you back with us. Do you know the answer?"

"Um…" Shoot, she didn't even know the question. "Could you repeat the question?"

He heaved a dramatic sigh as if to complain about being beset with foolish students. "What was the main drawback with the child labor laws drawn up to keep children from working in factories?"

"Uh…they discriminated against children who didn't want to take paper routes?"

His eyes narrowed and then he sighed again as the class tittered. "Well, that's close to the truth. The fact is, the laws were meant to prevent underage employees from factory-related accidents. Now their families lacked the income their children previously brought in. What was the main consequence of losing that income? Mr. Johnson?"

The dark-haired boy rattled off his answer. "The kids became liabilities to their parents. A kid working in the country was an asset to the family. But a child in the city was just an extra mouth to feed. A lot of those kids wound up being abandoned as babies and left to die. So the law hurt the very people it was supposed to protect."

"Correct, Mr. Johnson." His attention had wandered off her and Buffy drew a breath in relief. She'd been slacking off in her classes lately. Not that it was intentional. She was just packing in the slaying and going light on the sleeping. Something had to give and it looked like it was the studying.

She glanced out the window, not really noting the sunshine that lay beyond it. Where was Angel? That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? She couldn't feel him around her when she patrolled and she could never find him at home. All that meant he was avoiding her—like he'd been doing all week. Her concentration was getting all shot to hell and that wasn't good for the homework or the slayage. 

Worry over Angel and anger at his continued avoidance made her hell against the demons. But she was letting her concentration slip and occasionally a demon got under her guard. When that happened, she went to Giles to get patched up. She didn't want to worry her mom. Good thing she healed up so quickly otherwise her mother would be a hell of a lot more upset.

True to her word, Mrs. Summers had demanded to know the truth about Ms. Calendar. Buffy had told her about how the woman was following Angel but not why. She just made it sound like some kind of sacred duty that had been passed on to Jenny. Her mom had seemed accepting but there was no telling whether she'd go running around to the others with questions. 

Now Buffy was actually glad her mother didn't like Angel so much. That meant she didn't question his absence from Buffy's life. But Buffy desperately wanted to talk to Angel if only to know that he was all right. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Was he hurting like she was?

There had to be a way around this problem. Without actually being a nag she asked Willow every day about progress on the soul-spell front. So far the budding witch hadn't turned up anything.

Finally the bell rang and she scooped up her books and headed for the door. Just as she reached it, Mr. Enright called out to her, "Ms. Summers? May I have a word?"

She turned as her stomach twisted into knots. [Oh, great. Here comes the lecture.] She forced a smile onto her face. "Yeah, Mr. Enright. Look, if it's about the lesson…"

"That it is, Ms. Summers." He gestured her closer as he began cleaning off the blackboard for the next class. "Your work has been slipping lately. That's a shame. You're very bright in class usually." He finished and began writing the new lesson. Then he shot her a shrewd glance. "Is everything all right at home?"

"Sure. Everything's hunky dory. I've really got to get going."

He ignored her blatant attempt to duck the conversation. "When I see one of my better students slipping, I have to think something else is wrong. I know you can apply yourself to your studies better than this. You've been doing so well. I'd hate to see that change. Do you want to talk to the school counselor?"

"No! I mean, I just haven't been sleeping all that well. I get to worrying about the sl—studying, homework and sometimes the tests so I get nightmares and then the sleeping gets dicey which leads to classroom sleeping. Not that I sleep during your class, Mr. Enright," she added hastily. "It's so fascinating studying the, the…" She faltered as she tried to recollect the name of this history lesson.

"The Industrial Revolution," he added dryly. 

"Right! See, I knew that," she said with an artificial smile.

"Ms. Summers, I'll make this simple. If I don't see any improvement in your work, I'll talk to the principal."

She resisted the urge to shudder. Oh god, not Snyder. The man lived to make her life hell. Well, that's what the demons did. Some days it just seemed as if Snyder the Spider was on their side, too. "No, Mr. Enright. There's no need to drag Snyder into this. I'll do better. I promise."

"See to it." The lecture over, Buffy escaped into the hallway. She was shortly joined by Willow.

"Hey, Buff. How ya doing?" She shuffled closer. "Any sign of Angel?"

"Nada. He did his Harry Houdini and I can't catch him. Any luck on your end with the soul bindage?"

"N-no. We haven't lost hope yet 'cause there's still tons of books to look through. There's lot of useful stuff in the books like how to make artificial sunlight in the middle of the night and levitation and, oh, a truth saying spell. You chant these words and burn stinky herbs and, after that, a person can't lie to you. The effects are only temporary but it's really a neat form of interrogating somebody without using torture." Willow's sympathetic feelings about Angel almost disappeared under her enthusiasm for spell casting.

Buffy was irked there wasn't anything to help Angel but she couldn't help but be drawn in by the redhead's excitement. "Wow. You've turned up a lot, Wills. That truth spell sounds good. Can you use it on someone without their knowing?"

The red-haired girl shook her head. "Naw. You have to put them in this circle when you cast the spell. That makes it kinda of the hard to not having them in the know." She brightened and then tried to sound casual. "Hey, maybe I can use some of this magical know-how when we go out on slay duty tonight."

The Slayer gnawed her under lip. "I don't know, Willow. I've been trying to get hold of Angel so him and me can do the talking thing and I haven't been able to. If I have someone around, I think it's gonna be impossible to get him to talk."

"Yeah, 'cause Angel's so chatty most of the time," Willow replied, a laugh bubbling under her words.

Xander bounded up. "And how's my two favorite ladies today?"

"We're doing Angel comparison," Willow answered before Buffy could signal her to keep quiet.

"Dead Boy still a no-show? Watch me not care," Xander shrugged. "Want to see my side project for shop class?"

"Side project? I thought you were building shelves?" Willow answered.

"Yes and I am an official shelf-builder extraordinaire. The teacher thinks I've got real talent. But this is what I made with the pieces that were left over." He opened his book bag so the two girls with him could see what was inside. Alongside elegantly simple crosses were some solid stakes. "Tada! Look at me making with the craftsmanship."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "The crosses are okay, Xander. But, honestly, I can get my own stakes. I still have Mr. Pointy."

"Well, these are for us. Not all of us have our own personal arsenal," Xander huffed, obviously annoyed that she was unimpressed.

Willow hurried to show more support. "I think the stakes are nifty, Xander. Not the crosses so much because, hey, Jewish. But otherwise, good work."

Xander smiled at her. "Nice to know there's somebody who appreciates the Xandman. Maybe when I get really advanced, I can make my own crossbows."

Unnoticed by any of them Cordelia Chase fell in step behind the three friends. "You know, Xander, only losers and slackers take pride in doing well in shop class," she said tartly.

"Or people who use their hands for more than getting their next manicure," Xander said without missing a beat.

"What's wrong with a good manicure? Buffy certainly could use one. I guess all that late night activity is hard on the nails—and everything else," she added peering at the blonde girl's face. "Bags under the eyes are _not_ an acceptable accessory, Buffy."

"You're so lucky, Cordelia," Xander replied. "The only thing you've ever had to wear twice was a nasty expression."

"Says the perennial fashion victim. You could try wearing clothes that don't stop traffic, Harris."

"So could you, Cordelia. But that would tarnish your reputation as the school's bike, wouldn't it?"

Willow and Buffy grimaced and turned away from the two squabblers. Cordelia reminded Willow a little of Jesse in her determination to fling insults at Xander. She remembered when the two boys would trade insults and quips just like this although their conversation was done in a spirit of friendship. Willow felt an unaccustomed sadness well up inside her as she got books for her next class out of her locker. She didn't think of Jesse often these days. But when she did it was invariably with a pang of grief. She wondered whether Xander ever thought about him. The brunette boy didn't say much about Jesse any more than she did but she knew he must miss his favorite guy friend.

Finally the sparring between Xander and everybody's favorite drama queen came to an end and Cordelia drifted off to find another victim. "Tell me again why you saved her from an invisible girl, Buffy," Xander asked as he reached into his locker for his math book.

"Because even Cordelia didn't deserve to die. Although I'm not sure Marcy meant to kill her. Maybe she was just going to cut up her face a little," Buffy mused as she remembered her battle with Marcy the unseen psycho. She wondered what the government had done with her…

"Someone was going to scar that stuck-up beauty queen's face for good and you stopped them?" Xander tsk tsked over Buffy's goof-up. "There went the opportunity for the ultimate revenge on She-Who-Runs-in-Do-Me-Heels." He shouldered his bag and asked, "So who's up for some Bronzing tonight? I warn you, I'm not taking no for an answer."

Buffy sighed. "Sorry, Xand. Mr. Enright just chewed me out for doing the doze in his class. I really have to work, study and do the slay thing or else he's blowing the whistle to Snyder."

"Ouch. That's the last thing we want," Xander shuddered. "But you haven't been out with us in awhile. In fact, I think it's been a week since we had the library—"

"I'll go, Xander," Willow interjected hurriedly. She knew Xander didn't care about Angel. But he could show a little compassion for Buffy's feelings. "Dingoes Ate My Baby is playing. I wanna see Oz's set. I could introduce you to him."

Xander's nose wrinkled as he considered. "Yeah, I want to meet this guy. You've been talking about him ever since you went out and you say he goes to school here but I haven't so much as gotten a look at him. Does he even take the same classes as us?"

"Naw. But you'll like him. He's quiet and cool and he asks these really deep questions like why the monkey in the animal crackers is the only one with clothes."

"Oh yeah. That's always been a big mystery to me. What're his thoughts?"

Buffy listened to her friends' happy chatter. [Man, it's so easy for people to be happy. Willow's got a new love interest; Xander's got a new hobby as Shop Guy. Why can't I get a break?]

[_Slayer, remember?_]

[Right. How could I have forgotten that?] She glanced longingly towards the library. She didn't have any time now to pop in and see Giles. Maybe she could put in a quick appearance after school. Maybe he'd turned up something that Willow didn't know about. He _did_ have spell books he wouldn't let any of them look into…

__________

Giles didn't have anything. He'd sounded regretful but not particularly so. Guess binding a vampire's soul wouldn't be high up on a Watcher's list of priorities. He'd been kinda sad, too. The business with Ms. Calendar must have hit him hard.

Buffy didn't know what to think about Ms. Calendar. Part of her got the sacred duty thing. That was her shtick, too, after all. But Jenny's traitor act had hurt people—her, Angel and Giles. That woman had a lot of making up to do. 

But Buffy couldn't think about that now. She had spotted a vampire carrying a bulky wooden package under his arm and run after him. The guy was weedy and small; he didn't look as if he'd be much of a challenge. Unfortunately, he'd had a friend running interference—a large and heavy vampire who looked as if he'd played major league football when he'd been alive. Buffy was currently trying to take him down and having no success.

This one had some fancy footwork that had allowed him to dodge her stake and he'd managed to get in three or four swift jabs that left her jaw aching. Scratch the linebacker theory, then; this guy must have been a boxer. She was starting to gain a new respect for the sport of organized pummeling when she saw a chance to strike again. However, he gave a sharp feint to the right and grabbed her stake hand. Twisting it downwards sharply, the stake landed in her stomach.

As if in a dream, Buffy felt all the strength go out of her legs. She struggled to stay upright but the agony was too great. The vampire saw her sink to her knees and grinned malevolently. "Ooh, what's the matter, little girl? Feeling a bit weak in the knees? Looks like I get to bring the Anointed One the Slayer's head on a plate."

"Slayer's head on a plate. Sounds tasty. You want fries with that?" The vamp jerked his head up and Angel's blade snaked out from under his coat. The shiny steel zipped through the air with a deceptive laziness and the vampire was neatly decapitated. Angel stepped over the ashes and crouched next to the Slayer where she half-reclined on the cemetery grass. "Buffy?"

"A-Angel?" She'd missed this, hearing his voice speak her name as if it were the most special one in the world. Buffy would never have dignity or grace in her mind. But somehow he said it as if the sound possessed both. She wanted to throw her arms around him. She wanted to yell at him for his absence. But the draining wound in her middle made it impossible.

Angle growled in anguish and fury as the smell of Slayer blood hung thickly in the air. Without realizing that he'd vamped out, he reached for her and lifted her up. "Hang on, Buffy. I'll get you to the hospital."

Her eyes widened and she began to struggle, albeit feebly. "N-no. No hospital. Hate…them, Angel."

"Buffy, there's no choice. You're bleeding…"

"No hospital!" She got loud in her determination and he inwardly cringed. If the scent of her blood didn't bring otherworldly predators running, her outcries would. She sagged back into his arms and mumbled, "C-can't we go to your place?"

His place? With her bleeding as copiously as she was and the prospect of spending the night with her all vulnerable next to him, he knew that was a bad idea. "I'll take you to your house, Buffy. It's closer." Suiting action to word, he jogged slightly, heading towards his car.

"Spoilsport," she whispered. She hissed a little as he placed her inside the vehicle. She peered at him as he started the car. "H-how did you find me anyway?"

He smiled faintly. "I-I was worried about you. I decided to take a chance and follow you."

"Good thing. Timing…is everything." She was drawing short, jerky breaths, trying to breathe past the pain. When her hands inched towards the stake embedded in her belly, he threw out a hand in alarm.

"Don't, Buffy."

"Angel…hurts," she whimpered.

"I know, beloved. But you mustn't pull it out before we get real aid. You could bleed to death."

"You're just…worried…get blood…in…your…car." Her voice was teasing but the strain and physical pain were very audible under it.

"Just rest, Buffy. We're almost there." She didn't answer and he snuck a glance at her face. She'd fallen unconscious, her head slumped sideways and rolling slightly with the movement of the car. He would have loved to take her to Giles's place but her own house was closer. 

Buffy was awakened slightly when the car stopped. With great effort she opened her eyes and gazed at the door in front of her. "An-gel?" She saw her front door and wriggled in his grip. Thanks to the short nap in the car, she was actually feeling a little stronger. "Put me down."

He scowled down at her. "Buffy Summers, this is no time to be stubborn. You need to relax and let me take care of this."

"It's not so bad, Angel. Really. Besides, what if my mom's still up? She's gonna be freaked enough seeing you without your carrying me in all invalid-y. Just put me down." When he reluctantly complied, she added, "You might want to take off your vamp face, too."

"Oh. Right." With an effort, he forced his brows to resume its normal human appearance. Joyce hadn't yet seen his game face and he wanted to postpone that moment as long as possible. 

Buffy leaned heavily on Angel as she fumbled for the keys. Silently praying that her mother had gone to sleep and that they might get in without waking her, she inserted the key in the lock. She held her breath but Angel smelled the telltale traces of oranges and jasmine that signaled Joyce Summers's presence moments before the lights came on.

"Buffy, where have you been? I thought we discussed your hou—oh, Angel. It's you." Joyce was distinctly surprised to see the vampire; Buffy hadn't been talking about him and he'd been conspicuous by his absence. She'd had no complaints about that, however. Having him on the scene again was a definite shock. Then her attention re-focused on Buffy's arms wrapped around her middle and she stiffened in shock. "Buffy? Is-is that blood?"

"Give us some room, Mrs. Summers. Buffy's been hurt." Angel tried to pull Buffy towards the couch but she shook her head.

"Upstairs, Angel. My room. I'll be more comfy there."

He frowned down at her bent head. "But your bed sheets…the bloodstains…"

She sighed, the blood loss catching up to her as she swayed dizzily. "Bloodstains are the least of my worries right now. Get me upstairs."

Without another word to her or her distraught parent, Angel scooped her off her feet and carried her swiftly up the stairs, her worried mother following behind.

"Angel, talk to me. How bad is it? Shouldn't she be in a hospital? Let me see what's wrong!" Ignoring the persistent questions, Angel laid Buffy on the bed with infinite care and rushed to open up Buffy's weapons' chest. He brought gauze, bandage strips, disinfectant, a metal wash bowl and a small shears and laid them within easy reach of his hands beside the reclining blond. It didn't escape Joyce's notice how quickly and easily he found everything he needed. It suggested an in-depth knowledge of her daughter's room that she didn't like. 

However, all concerns about Angel's possible familiarity with Buffy's sleeping quarters vanished when he tenderly pulled away her daughter's arms from their protective clutch over her abdomen. As she witnessed the stake buried in her stomach, Joyce paled and thought she might faint. "Oh god! Buffy!"

"It looks worse than it is, Mrs. Summers. Trust me. I'd had my share of experiences with puncture wounds." He recalled his encounter with a certain demon hunter in Italy. Those wounds had been deep and plentiful but a few hours—and a couple of human victims later—and he'd been raring and fit to go. Buffy was stronger than he. Now that he'd actually seen the wound, he was confident she would survive.

Mrs. Summers wasn't so convinced. She crouched by her daughter's side, her hands reaching helplessly towards the piece of wood before she pulled back. "There's so much blood…Angel, are you sure she doesn't need a doctor?"

"Positive. But you can help. First take the basin and fill it with warm water." The other woman nodded numbly and then stumbled off to comply with his request.

Angel took the opportunity to brush Buffy's hair back from her sweaty brow. "How're you holding up?" he whispered.

Her answering smile was weak but genuine. "Hey, give me a few hours and a glass of OJ and I'll be back to my Slayer self in now time." She peered towards the door where her mother had disappeared and lowered her voice to match Angel's. "Mom's so gonna combust when this is over."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really? I thought she was taking this rather well, considering. Hasn't she seen you injured before?"

Buffy shook her head. "Naw. She's been cleaning blood out of my clothes for over a year but she's never seen what caused them. And I've never been hurt this bad before…that she knows of."

Joyce came back in with the bowl, treading carefully to keep the water from sloshing over. "I've got the water. What should I do now?"

Angel took the basin from her and set it down by the floor. He didn't want to risk it spilling from Buffy's movements. "Just hold down her shoulders. I'm going to pull this out and I need you to hold her still."

"All right." Mrs. Summers placed trembling hands on Buffy's shoulders. Buffy could tell by the unsteady grip her mother really wasn't going to be much good. But the woman wanted to help and Angel was doing his best to keep her from panicking. So the Slayer braced herself against the incipient pain and nodded minutely at her vampire boyfriend.

Angel grasped the bit of stake that protruded and pulled it out with one swift tug. Buffy's jaw clenched with the effort not to scream from the raw agony. Her body tensed and her fingers clawed at the sheets, producing a jagged ripping sound. Then her entire form went limp. Sweat dripped from her brow and she panted hard, her breath almost like sobs, as she battled to remain conscious.

"I'm sorry, beloved," he answered softly, for the moment forgetful of her watchful mother. He quickly began ripping off her blouse, revealing her tanned skin and the purple lacy bra underneath. The blood had ruined the top and the flimsy bit of lace that lay under it and he was certain she wouldn't want to sleep in her gore-stained clothing. A clearing of the throat from Mrs. Summers reminded him the older woman was still present. "Mrs. Summers, I'm going to dress Buffy's wound. But she needs to have her clothing removed so she can rest comfortably. I trust you'll be able to handle that?"

"Oh yes. Nothing there I haven't seen." The statement was followed by a nervous titter and Angel wondered whether the woman was on the verge of hysteria. However, she managed to remain silent as Angel cleaned and bandaged Buffy's stomach. He kissed her forehead when he was done and got up to leave. Buffy grabbed at his hand in a panic.

"Angel! Y-you're not going?"

"I'll be just outside, beloved."

"O-okay. Don't forget we've still got things to discuss, mister." Unwilling to say more with her mother hovering, Buffy let him go and sat up so her mother could get to her bra straps.

Angel stood just beyond the closed door, his preternaturally soft hearing picking up every groan and sigh as Joyce removed Buffy's torn and useless clothes. He couldn't help but imagine Buffy's skin bared to _his_ touch and _his_ glance. What would it be like to clean the blood off her body with his tongue while she writhed beneath him?

[If your damned soul weren't around, we wouldn't have to imagine. We could have had Buffy at the apartment and be getting some Slayer tail _and_ blood while we're at it. This sucks, buddy, and not in a good way.]

He grunted and stalked downstairs as if to outrun that insistent voice. [_Buffy's injured, jackass. How much fun do you think we could have with her while she's in pain?_]

[I hear that Slayers heal really fast. If we stick around, maybe we can test just how fast. Whaddaya say? We kill Joyce, stick her body in a closet—]

[_And fight off Buffy when she tries to kill us? Remember last year with Darla?_]

[Oh yeah. Lousy cow thought she was being clever, trying to frame me like that. Should have dusted the clingy bitch years ago. She was a good piece of ass but she just couldn't take no for an answer.]

[_Something you've got in common._] Angel smirked and walked around the living room, tilting his head up to catch any hint of activity from above.

[You don't get to be a Master vampire by backing down from obstacles, shithead.] Then he ghosted to the stairs as Joyce Summers came trudging down the steps. The woman looked as if she had aged ten years in the previous hour.

"She wants to talk to you. I-I kept telling her she needs to rest but she refuses to sleep unless y-you're with her." Her look was probing in spite of her weariness. "Can I take it from tonight's events this isn't the first time you've been in my daughter's room?"

If he'd still been human he would have been flushing unpleasantly. "Mrs. Summers, I promise you, nothing's gone on between Buffy and me that you need worry about."

[Define "nothing," Soul Boy.] A mental cackle and a rapid flickering of pornographic images as Angelus replayed the naughty gropings and heavy pettings of his and Buffy's recent escapades rolled beyond Angel's eyes. Thankfully, his impassive expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.

"I doubt that either you or she would tell me if there were something going on, Angel," she replied, her maternal defenses undiminished by his denial.

He said nothing, merely waiting for permission from her to proceed. Recognizing his deference to her wishes, she waved her hand towards the upstairs bedroom. "Go. She's waiting for you. She threatened to come downstairs if you weren't up in two minutes."

"Angel?" The voice was faint but he heard her. He was certain Mrs. Summers heard as well since her features darkened imperceptibly. 

"Coming, Buffy." He loped upstairs with Buffy's mother close on his heels. Buffy was propped up against her pillows, properly clothed in outrageous cow print pajamas. She looked suddenly very young and delicate and his undead heart clenched at the thought of just how fragile she was and how soon she might leave this world. She could have died tonight if he hadn't been there and he didn't need Angelus' sarcastic attacks to chastise him about leaving her side. He lifted one small hand and raised it to his lips. He wanted nothing more than to stretch out beside her. Mindful of Mrs. Summers, he removed the pillow Buffy wasn't sleeping on and placed it on the floor. He then stretched out beside Buffy even as Joyce watched them both.

"Mom, I know this is strange…"

"No, I passed strange several weeks ago. This is now Fantasy Island territory."

"Uh yeah. I guess." There was an awkward silence while Joyce gnawed her lip. She really wasn't okay with Angel staying in her daughter's room. But Buffy was stubbornly determined to keep him close. She was also badly hurt. What could Angel do given her condition?

She edged out of the room, pointedly making sure the door was left open. "Angel, if anything happens—"

"Don't worry, Mrs. Summers. I'll call you right away."

"No, I was going to say that if anything happened, I'd stake you myself." And on that note, she swept from the room leaving behind two rather startled warriors.

The minutes seemed to tick by as both of them waited for the other to speak. Finally her patience ran out and Buffy muttered, "So we gonna talk about this or what?"

"Buffy, I really think this should wait until you're rested and healed."

"No. No waiting. I-I don't much feel like sleeping anyway."

"You should. You really need your rest."

"Not likely to get it if the nightmares come back."

That got his interest. "Nightmares? You're been having nightmares?"

"Yeah. T-they're major scary. They—I see you in these different foreign places. You're speaking French, Italian and a weird language that sounds like Russian, I think. You're running around with Spike, Darla and this other girl with dark hair. She looks like Spike's main squeeze and he calls her Drusilla." The quality of the silence changed and she peered down over the bed at him. "They're not just dreams, are they?"

"No. No, I-I guess they're not. Drusilla was—Spike's Sire. They loved each other. Or had what passes for love." She was experiencing dreams about his past. How else could she know about Drusilla? Angel was pretty sure Buffy had never met her nor had he mentioned anything about his crazed creation. He'd heard how Mrs. Summers had killed Spike but nowhere in Buffy's account of that attack on the school had she mentioned seeing the brunette seeress. 

He had lost track of his mad Childe and asshole Grandchilde over a century ago when he'd regained his soul. He had heard the occasional rumor about them as they swept back and forth across Europe but that had been it. If Spike had remained as infatuated with Drusilla as he had been when all four had hung out together, then she would have been in Sunnydale with him. But his mystical ties to his offspring and Sire let him know that all three of them were truly dead. He simply didn't know how Drusilla met her end.

[Yeah, Drusilla was fun. A bit skinny for my tastes but, man, that crazy broad was full of surprises. Think we could show some of her games to Buffy?]

[_You know how rough Drusilla liked it. Buffy wouldn't stand for that sort of thing._]

[Don't be too sure. Slayers are strong little girls. She might not mind a bit of the rough stuff. Wonder if she ever has _those_ kind of dreams?]

His beloved's musing voice broke into his thoughts. "Drusilla, huh? Wonder why I never met her when her Billy Idol wanna-be boyfriend crawled into town."

"She's dead," he replied flatly.

"Oh. Really?" She looked down at him again trying to see his face in the darkness. "How'd ya know?"

"S-she was one of my childer. She carried my blood. That means that I can sense her as long as she's in this world. That connection mysteriously vanished weeks ago and that can mean only one thing. The only thing I don't know is how it happened."

"Maybe my mom dusted her and forgot to mention it." She giggled and then her breath hitched as the action pulled at her wound.

"Buffy, please. Just go to sleep."

"I can't, Angel. I've been spending this past whole week thinking and worrying about you."

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

[We're both here. Don't forget about me, oh souled one.]

[_Give it a break. She's talking._]

[I can think of other things she could be doing with her mouth.]

Oblivious to Angelus, Buffy whined, "For how long? Are you gonna take off again and leave me? Angel, we need to discuss this!"

He shushed her, reminding her that her mother was probably still wakeful and listening for any untoward noises. "Buffy, I know how you feel. I-I've missed you, too."

[You've missed her. _I_ just want to pork her brains out.]

"This isn't just a case of missing, Angel. It's like part of me was lost. I kept searching around for you like somebody probing the space where a missing tooth used to be. It ached. _I_ ached. I couldn't stop aching. I just went through my normal routine but it was like I was feeling and experiencing everything through cotton. I couldn't care about anything or get close to anyone but I had to keep going through the motions to please my mom, my Watcher, my friends, my teachers and that hurt almost as much as missing you…" Her voice wobbled and he heard a sound like tears as she swallowed. Then she whispered, "I need to have you in my life, Angel. I love you."

What would it be like to have a heartbeat right now, he wondered. Would it fly out of his chest or thunder so loud even her human ears could hear it? He saw one small hand edge over the bed and hang as if silently waiting for his touch. Unable to resist, he clasped her hand in his large one and whispered back, "I love you, too, Buffy."

[Oh, give _me_ a break! You love her; she loves you. Could we move on to the important stuff, now? How much longer do I have to put up with this lovey dovey crap?! You could at least cop a feel!]

Angel focused on Buffy's voice to drown out his inner demon's sniping. She sniffled again and continued in a voice like sighing rain. "Willow's working on a plan to bind your soul, you know. All the time you've been gone we've been looking for answers."

He heard the hesitation in her voice. "Has she found anything?"

"Um, no. But she's not gonna quit until she comes up with a solution. Once Willow Rosenburg sets her mind to something, it's hard to stop her."

"Right. Resolve Face."

"Oh, you've seen that, too?"

"Yeah. I thought it was kinda adorable."

"Adorable? You think Willow is adorable?"

Uh oh. There was surprise and a bit of jealousy in that. He wasn't afraid Buffy would hurt him; he just didn't want her to hurt herself if she decided to take a swing at him. "Not like you. You're the only one I think about in that way, Buffy."

"And what way is that?" Her voice had turned cajoling, teasing in the mock-serious way of all women fishing for compliments.

"I think about your little laugh when you're telling one of Xander's jokes. I love how your voice gets thoughtful when you're thinking through a problem or considering your life. I think about how your soul shines through your eyes."

She sounded breathless when she spoke again. "Really?"

"I also wonder how you can fight in those tight pants of yours like those gray jeans with the button fly snaps. It really emphasizes your cute little butt…"

"Hey!"

__________

Willow giggled in math class. "He really said that?"

After waking up this morning, her wound had been completely healed. However, her mother had refused to believe she was ready to go back to school. Buffy had had to pull up her pj top and show the sealed wound before Joyce Summers could be convinced. Now as usual she was discussing everything that had happened to her with Willow. "Yep. I didn't think Angel noticed what I wore."

"Me neither. He's always so serious not into the whole drooling, slobbering bit like other boys." She snuck a quick glance at the blackboard and wrote something in her notebook. "And he really said I'm adorable?"

"He said your Resolve Face was adorable," Buffy corrected.

"Huh," Willow mused. Then she frowned. "It's not supposed to be adorable. It's meant to be intimidating."

"But cutely intimidating. Like kittens when they get all pissy-upset and swell up to twice their size."

The redhead smiled again. "Oh. Well, that's okay then. So he spent the whole night with you?"

"Not really. When I woke up the next morning he was gone. I was pretty upset about that. I really wanted to talk about this whole curse dealie. We didn't manage to solve anything. I don't know if he's sticking around or if he's gonna do the shadow-Buffy bit or if I can expect him only on patrols or when there's some disaster on the horizon." She remembered those two vamps she'd seen. One had mentioned the Anointed One and the other he'd been with had been carrying a huge package. In all the excitement of getting hurt and spending time with Angel, she'd forgotten all about them.

Willow noticed her sudden silence. "Buffy? What is it? Did something else happen last night?"

"You could say that. I think we should do a confab with Giles about it, though. See ya at lunch, Wills."

__________

Giles adjusted his glasses. "You say there were two vampires? One small and toting a box?"

"Uh huh. It didn't look like it came from Federal Express either. It was kinda long and bent in the middle almost like an L shape."

"But you didn't get him because the larger vampire attacked you, presumably to keep you from stopping his comrade." Giles sighed. "It looks like the Anointed One is making his presence felt in the vampiric community again."

"And how. The little guy may have been a scrawny loser but the big one must have been taking lessons from Iron Mike when he was still a breather."

Giles's expression was almost comically bewildered. "Iron who?"

"Mike Tyson. Geez, don't you know anything about pop culture, Giles? I heard about him and I don't even follow boxing." Buffy sat on the table and swung her legs idly. Because she wanted to avoid pressure to her tender stomach she'd opted for a loose, low-cut blouse of tawny orange. Privately he wondered why Principal Snyder didn't make more of a fuss about her clothing; it would be just the sort of thing to bother that prudish little prat. Thinking of her injuries he recalled a communication he'd received. "By the way, your mother called me earlier."

She glanced at him, startled at the mention of her mom. "She did? Why?"

"Evidently last night's brush with the demon community left her severely shaken. She asked me to check on you and see that you were all right. I did my best to reassure her of the rapidity of Slayer healing and that if you'd collapsed in the school hallways I would have heard about it."

Buffy relaxed minutely. "Oh. I-is that it? She didn't mention anything else?"

"Other than Angel spending the night? No, not that I recall." Giles watched in amusement as Buffy flushed up to her eyebrows.

"It's not what you're thinking, Giles."

"It isn't?"

"No! There was definitely no hanky or panky involved. I was on the injured list, remember?"

"Ah. Then it was exactly what I was thinking."

Buffy blinked and then squinted hard at Giles's face. He had a bland look as if he were discussing the weather yet she had the feeling he was making fun of her. "What you were—?"

"I was thinking that you were injured and that Angel stayed by to offer you the—comfort of his presence."

"Yeah. Yeah, that was exactly it! It was only about being in a comfort zone and Angel was like my pjs and Mr. Gordo only without the pink fluffy goodness." [And he smells better than Mr. Gordo, too.]

"Well, the important thing is that you've fully recovered. I-I'm glad Angel was there."

"Yeah, me too." Her voice softened and then she asked, "I've been thinking about what happened last week."

Giles thought she meant to needle him again for his lack of progress. "Willow and I have been working on the problem, Buffy. As yet we've come up with no solution. I would have informed you if we had."

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not talking about that. Well, yeah, I guess I am. But I was thinking about Ms. Calendar. Maybe she can help us."

If the mention of the computer teacher bothered Giles, there was no sign of it on his face. "I hardly think so, Buffy. You heard what she said. Her people have tried over the centuries to change the curse so they would no longer be connected to Angel. They have had no success."

"But have any of them taken a whack at it lately?" she persisted. "And Ms. Calendar's a technopagan and you're not a bad Merlin yourself. Maybe if we put our heads together on this, we might find something."

Giles was ready to concede the point. "You might be right. However, even if she could, why would she help us? Her sworn duty is to watch Angelus not help Angel. She has no reason to aid us."

"Except, oh, I don't know, it would get her a normal life. She said it herself, Giles. She's tired of playing follow-the-vamp and she wants out! I can so relate," Buffy finished with a mutter.

Giles recalled his conversation with the woman after the others had departed. He could hear it clearly in her voice, the fierce longing to be freed from her onerous, crippling burden of trailing after Angel like a tired dog on a leash. She craved an ordinary existence although her chances of finding it on the Hellmouth were slim. [If she were relieved of her duties, would she and I have a chance? Could we possibly heal this breach that's opened up between us?]

Again he said nothing of this to his youthful charge. Seeing Buffy's hopeful and stubborn gaze on him, he heaved a mental sigh. Even if binding Angel's soul solved Jenny's problems, he would still have a Slayer under his care and tutelage. That wouldn't change and would mean Jenny would be in constant danger as long as she stayed around him. But she might change her mind about maintaining her relationship with him and then she could be truly free. Did he really want to deny her the opportunity for normalcy?

Buffy was getting impatient with her Watcher's silence. Honestly, he could be as bad as Angel sometimes in terms of lack of talkyness. "So how about it, Watcher mine? We bring in Ms. Calendar with you and Willow for a little three-way?" She flushed and hopped down from the tabletop. "Uh, so not what I meant. Just rewind that and pretend I didn't give way to my inner fifth grader."

For the first time, a hint of a smile twinkled on his countenance. "Duly noted. As for your suggestion, I'll take it under consideration, Buffy. Of course, the final decision must be Ms. Calendar's."

"Right. Then I'm Audi, Giles." She ran out the door with remarkable alacrity for a girl who'd been stabbed through the stomach only a few hours previous and Giles breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been startled and fearful when Joyce Summers had made her call. He was grateful the woman had thought to call him. He knew Buffy would have informed him eventually. In fact she did mention it when she gave her report on the two suspicious vampires she'd encountered. However, she had spoken of it slightingly as if the wound had been minor. If not for Joyce, he might not have known how serious it had really been.

Had Buffy dismissed it because she was truly blasé about how close the brush with death had been or because she hadn't wanted him to know the extent of Angel's involvement? He was aware that Buffy hid many things about Angel from him. She probably felt he would be unsympathetic about her relationship with the vampire. She was probably right. But if Jenny had a chance to make things better then he would ask her. That, in the end, was all he could do.

He grimaced and went back to his books. The Watchers Council never prepared him for anything like this.

__________

The Anointed One was beyond thrilled. It had taken time to set up a new base. Fortunately as a vampire he had time to spare. But that didn't make him any less impatient. He was still a kid in some ways and he hated to wait for things. 

But Dalton had needed to get his books back. Doing that while dodging the Slayer had been iffy. Finding a place suitable for the storage of musty old books had been problematic with the little sniveler turning down one place after another as being too damp or too sunny. The Anointed One had been driven wild by his fussiness but Dalton had assured him that, with the proper knowledge of portents, signs and the risings of certain mystical beasts, ruling humanity would be easy. And he'd been proven right.

The thing that had once been a human boy looked over the packages neatly stacked on the table. After scouring the books, it had taken even more time, more manpower (or vamp power) to track down and retrieve these valuable pieces. Gus had been one of his strongest, most agile and capable fighters; he'd been right to send him out with Dalton the previous night. Otherwise, Dalton would have lost the arm to the Slayer. That would have been a crying shame.

The little boy stroked one box and smiled. "You're sure she didn't see where you went?"

Dalton nodded. "Absolutely sure. She was too busy tangling with Gus to come after me." He ducked his head and smiled gratefully. "Thanks for allowing me his protection, by the way."

"You're welcome," the boy replied automatically. Then he scowled. Demons weren't supposed to display things like courtesy, gratitude or manners. But he'd been taken away from his mother so young; sometimes the old ways just slipped out without his thinking. Dalton was so subservient, too; he was always saying things like "thank you" and "excuse me" and "please." It was rather useful to have such a cringing little toad as a minion but occasionally the fawning got on his nerves.

He stroked the box again and couldn't resist a smile that he quickly tried to stifle. Once the occupant of the box was resurrected, the last thing he could afford were emotions. As a vampire, he wasn't supposed to have them anyway. However, he recalled the Master's grief over Darla and he frowned worriedly. "Dalton?"

"Yes, Master?"

"What's that word for when you're feeling really pleased with yourself? It's not happiness exactly but a sense that things are going real well for you and nothing can get screwed up."

"I believe it's called satisfaction."

The boy grinned again and this time it held a touch of true demonic malice. "That's it. Satisfaction. That's not the same as human emotion, is it, Dalton?"

"Oh no, sir. It's just the knowledge that comes from knowing a job's well done and you can take pride in the fact that you did your best and no one can take it away from you. It's a combination of smugness and conceit, really."

"Good. Excellent demonic emotions, wouldn't you agree, Dalton?"

Dalton hadn't survived as long as he had by pissing off the vamps he worked for. He was a good little sycophant. "Absolutely, sir."

The boy ran his small hand over the wooden crate again and smiled contentedly. When the big guy was up and running, all the humans would burn and that Slayer would be history. Satisfactory.

__________

Giles had considered this problem over and over again. He wanted to approach Ms. Calendar but their recent estrangement made that problematic. Calling her into the library was out of the question given the recent attack on her there. He didn't feel comfortable enough to ask for an invitation to her home and asking her to come into his was not an option. It was far too forward.

[Oh, stop being such a stick-in-the-mud. This isn't a romantic assignation you're looking for. This is a matter of vital importance.] Still there weren't too many options for getting in touch with her. He decided against approaching her in class; too much of that behavior and the students would start talking. Then again, perhaps they wouldn't. He'd noticed the tendency of young folks to consider people his age beyond the urge for sex. He could probably strip and shag Ms. Calendar right in front of them and they still wouldn't believe it was a natural desire on his part. 

The image of involving Jenny in such an intimate act made him flush. He decided to banish the thought from his mind as he confronted her. "Ms. Calendar?"

Her look was startled and hopeful as if she hadn't expected to see him and nevertheless was pleased to do so. Then her eyes became shuttered and wary. "Rupert?"

He cleared his throat. "I-it's about that conversation we had a week ago."

She began wiping off the chalkboard. "Yes, I remember."

"We—that is to say, Willow and I—have been working all week on a solution to th-this unique dilemma."

"Dilemma? What do you mean by that exactly?" The last student left and Giles shut the door behind him, glad at last to be able to speak freely.

"The problem of Angel's soul." She shot him a glance and before she turned away he thought he saw something like disappointment in her eyes. "Willow and I have been sifting through our books trying to come up with a solution. So far, we've had no success."

She finished the last sentence and slapped down the chalk a little harder than necessary. "I see. What do you want from me? I told you my people don't know how to break the curse."

"Your people don't, perhaps. But you told me you were a t-technopagan. When you helped us against Moloch, you sent messages out over your computer." He gestured vaguely at the contraption on her desk. "Perhaps you might try that resource again. You did say there were more of you than I thought. It may be one of them might come up with an answer where the Kalderash failed."

Jenny gazed at him, her mouth open. Then she slapped her forehead. "God! I am such an idiot!"

Giles smiled at her exasperation. "I wouldn't say that."

"No, really! I should have thought of that before. And the idea that a technophobe like you came up with it before me is really a kick in the pants."

Technophobe? Now it was his turn to become annoyed. "I think that's going a bit far. I've explained my aversion to the darned things. That doesn't mean I live in a cave and bang rocks together to make a fire."

She waved her hands to placate him. "Easy there, snobby. I didn't mean to be insulting."

"And yet you manage to pull it off brilliantly. Cordelia Chase would be so proud."

She raised her eyebrows. "Who?"

He graced her with a measuring look. She was absolutely serious. She had no idea whom he meant. "You know, if she heard you say that, she'd be very hurt."

She shrugged. "Whatever." She sat down and her fingers began to fly over the keys.

"Um, don't you have another class of students due?"

"Sure. But I can put the word out, like you said. It should only take a minute. Then all I have to do is check my mail later for the answers."

He glanced at her in alarm. "Wait. You won't be too explicit, will you? I understand these things aren't entirely—secure."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Goodness, you technophobes are so paranoid. The government probably has plenty on you just from the car you drive and the credit card purchases you've made in the real world. If you're worried I'll put in names like Angel and Angelus, you can set your mind at rest. I'll just outline the parameters of the problem without getting too specific." She tapped out a few more keys and shut down the website. "There. All done."

Really? He hadn't thought it would be that easy. "We're done then?"

She smirked at his surprise. "All over except for the shouting."

He was a bit piqued that it should be such a breeze for her considering the work that he and Willow had put into the endeavor but he strove to hide his irritation. "W-well, that's all sorted. You'll let me know what you turn up?"

"Absolutely." Now her smile held a hint of gratitude as she added, "Thanks for coming to me with this, Rupert. I-it means a lot that you'd trust me like this."

He wanted to tell her that it was Buffy's idea not his. But students for the next class began filing in and he was forced to retreat.

TBC


	11. Growing Pains

Buffy's Slayer sense was tingling. Something wasn't right. Whenever she showed, the air changed, the beings she thought she knew became secretive. Something was going on right under her nose and she didn't like it one bit. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer.

Leaping out at the scurrying redhead, she said, "Willow!"

Not having seen her, Willow nearly leaped into the air. "Buffy!" she squeaked. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"No. I just want to know what's been going on with you and Xander."

"Going on? There hasn't been any going-ons. Especially with Xander. That ship has definitely sailed. And sank. And taken all my Xander-shaped hopes with it. Now I'm on my way to class so…" She tried to shuffle around Buffy only to find her way blocked by one determined Slayer.

"Willow, you've been acting sneaky and dodge-y all week. I hardly ever see you and Xander, you don't hang out at the Bronze any more and whenever I see you in the halls or the library, you get this deer-caught-in-the-lights-of-an-oncoming-truck look. What's the haps?"

Willow bleated, "Buffy, that's just silly! You're being paranoid. Xander is just all caught up in his muy macho manly 'See me. I am Tool Guy' mode and I've just been busy with schoolwork."

"So busy you only have time to talk to me on patrol?" Buffy said, a hurt tone in her voice.

Willow cast about frantically in her mind to get the suspicious Slayer off her back. They were all busily preparing for Buffy's surprise birthday party and had so far managed to keep the Slayer in the dark. But Willow had always found it hard to keep a secret. Now Buffy was putting her on the spot and she had to think of something to throw her off the scent. Finally she seized on the one most likely thing that would grab Buffy's attention. "I-I think things between me and Oz are getting serious and I guess it's been bothering me a little."

Buffy beamed. "You and Oz? Way to go, Willow!" Then she reconsidered. "Why should that be making you all of the anxious? I thought that'd be good news."

"Oh, it is! It's just…I haven't told him about you and the slaying thing. And since I'm part of the slaying thing, that's a big part of me being kept secret and a relationship has to be built on trust and honesty. At least that's what all the popular magazines say not that I read Cosmopolitan or anything 'cause that's more Cordelia's thing. I don't know if I should come clean or when I should come clean. What if I tell him and he bolts because he thinks I'm all nutso in the head? But keeping things secret is making me feel all nervy and knotted up inside and it's like Clark Kent hiding his secret life from Lois Lane and could I sound any more like Xander?" Willow moaned.

"Golly, Willow. Tell me everything; don't hold back," Buffy said teasingly. Then she sobered up when she saw the redheaded girl's unhappy frown. "I guess that _has_ been a big load to carry. Have you told Xander about this?"

Willow snorted delicately. "I think Xander's a little on the jealous side now that I'm not mooning over him any more. He makes all these cracks about Oz not being reliable 'cause he's in a rock band and has a different hairstyle every week. He's no help."

"Then why not come to me? If it's the slaying gig that's got you tied up in the nervy knots, then I definitely should have been consulted," Buffy stated.

"I-I know. But like I said, I _think_ things are getting serious. I'm not sure how Oz feels about me. He's a senior and older and maybe he thinks I'm a little on the young side. Also, he's kinda of the not talky. He could give Angel lessons on 'How to Have a Conversation in Ten Words or Less,' " Willow responded, sighing.

"Hey, Willow. Buffy." The boy in question stepped quietly into place and it was Buffy's turn to start. Oz was certainly good at the sneaking around. No wonder Xander was a little wiggy about him. Buffy also noted distractedly that Oz's hair was a brilliant blue. It matched his fingernails.

"Oz," Willow replied in a dreamy voice.

"Hey, Oz. I caught your set earlier this week. Not bad," Buffy observed.

"Yeah. If we can master another change of chords, Devon's thinking we could be real pros."

Buffy didn't know much about music but she remembered ice skating along to canned songs when she was a little girl. "Oh, really? How many chords can you manage now?"

"Two. But if we really stretch and fake it, it sounds like we can do three," he said, his face deadpan.

"Uh huh." Buffy wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. She didn't know Oz that well. But Willow was right; he and Angel definitely shared the same kind of laidback, non-speaking style.

Oz was talking to Willow now. "Hey, you think you can swing by the Bronze and hear us tonight?"

Willow perked up right away. "Oh, I'd love to!" Then she caught Buffy's eye and quickly revised her statement. "Only I can't. I promised Buffy I'd be with her tonight. Girl stuff. You know."

"No, can't say as I do. The downside to being an only child. But I can use my imagination." He smiled slightly at the two girls, darted a quick peck at the red-haired girl's cheek and ducked down the corridor to his next class.

"Okay, that was a guy joke, right? Sorta on the level of Xander's talk about girls' underwear and X-rated female prison movies only way more of the subtle?" Buffy mused.

"That's my Oz. A class act all the way," Willow said, a big smile creasing her features.

"A gentleman with gentian blue hair," Buffy quipped.

The redhead raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Gentian? That's a Giles-y word. Somebody's been spending a lot of quality time with everybody's favorite librarian."

"What am I supposed to do when my best girlfriend spends all her free time with a rock band?" Buffy pretended to wipe away a tear. "I've been abandoned for a musician. Who else can I turn to?"

"What about Angel?"

As always the mention of her undead boyfriend made Buffy pensive and happy at once. "Ya got me there. Angel _has_ been around a lot lately. He's being Mr. Over-Protective. I think my experiment with being a human shish kabob has him seriously wigged. So he's sticking close."

"That's so sweet," Willow sighed. "If you leave out the part about the shish kabobbing, that is."

"I guess it is." Buffy noted the other students hurrying along and waved goodbye to Willow. "Bye, Willow. See you after class."

"See ya later."

"Over 300 answers? That's rather excessive, isn't it? Not all of them can be related to our, ah, unique dilemma, can they?" Giles leaned over Ms. Calendar as they both eyed the screen, noting absently how her dark hair curled over her neck and the sweet scent that wafted from it whenever she moved. It was an odd but not unpleasing mixture of honeysuckle and sage although he noticed it varied on occasion. From time to time, she seemed to smell of different herbs along with her floral scent. Did she practice spells as he and Willow did? His attention was drawn back to her as she answered his question.

"Well, actually that's how many I've narrowed the list down to. There were originally more than 500 responses. One of them was actually a recipe for nut cake."

"Good Lord." He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. "Why did I think that this would make things easier?" he sighed.

"Hey, don't give up hope yet. These responses come from all over the world. There's bound to be something that deals with soul loss and retrieval that can help us. It's too soon to get all mopey over it."

"I-I realize that and I do appreciate the help. I've had a lot on my mind lately."

She flashed him a quick, unreadable glance. "Such as?"

"Mr. Giles, I wasn't aware they were opening up an annex of the library in the computer room." The nasal whine came from the door and Giles stiffened at the unmistakable accents of Principal Snyder. The little toad stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and the habitual sour expression on his face. "I don't think you're being paid to flirt on school time. What kind of example does that set for our students?"

"I imagine that they'd wonder at their principal having such a salacious mind," Giles replied, the ice barely perceptible in his voice.

"It's my job to see that order, discipline and propriety are maintained. We can't have the students getting any ideas in their heads, can we? The dirty-minded little creeps get enough of that from their MTV videos without being subjected to seeing fraternizing among the faculty."

Mr. Giles heaved a silent sigh of exasperation and counted rapidly to ten before trusting himself to speak. "I merely came to Ms. Calendar to explore the possibility of installing computers for student aid in the library."

Ms. Calendar took up her cue without so much as a blink. "That's right. There's plenty of room in the library. They might have to put in a few more tables, of course, and open up extra phone lines to accommodate the Internet. But all things considered I'd say the idea was doable," she mused in a considering tone.

"And who would be paying for this extravagance, exactly? You think because we're Americans we have money to spend on every cockamamie scheme that comes along? Besides, this isn't a matter you take up with other teachers, Mr. Giles. I don't know how they did things back in that antiquated country of yours but here we leave such things up to administration not faculty!" the principal remarked with acid in his voice.

The comment about his country's backwardness caused Giles to clench his jaw. But otherwise he made no sign that he was annoyed. Instead he sighed as if disappointed and turned to Ms. Calendar. "Ah well. It was just a suggestion."

She shrugged. "It's no loss. Nowadays most kids have their own home computers. Goodbye, Mr. Giles."

He inclined his head. "Ms. Calendar." He exited the room without another glance at Snyder.

The principal was vaguely aware that he'd been snubbed. But he wasn't one to challenge a man of Mr. Giles's height. He merely rotated his neck in his collar in an obvious gesture of self-importance, shot a glare at Ms. Calendar that she completely ignored and then exited the room to harass an unsuspecting student.

Mrs. Summers was rather reluctant about Willow's idea. "Tell me why this party has to be held at the Bronze. If it's a nightclub it must be a very large space. Just our tiny group will look a little lonely in there, won't we?"

Willow's voice came over the phone in an excited burble. "Well, there'll be Oz's band playing. He says he'll do it for a reduced price since I'm asking. And vamps usually come out to play and eat the kids there. So that night's rental will mean the walking undead will have to chow down somewhere else to get their teenage snacks."

"Well, that's a logical yet absolutely bizarre reason if I've ever heard one," Joyce replied as she repressed a shudder.

"Buffy doesn't suspect anything?" Willow asked.

"Not a thing." She kept an ear cocked towards the stairs to see when her daughter would come flying down the stairs for her nightly patrol.

"Good. I'm meeting her tonight. We've got to keep up our routine or she'll get all suspicious. She's already cornered me once today to ask me about me being so avoid-y and everything."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said I was having boyfriend trouble. I think she bought it."

"And are you having boyfriend trouble?" Joyce didn't believe it was her place to interfere with Willow's love life. But she felt a motherly concern for Buffy's friends. None of them seemed to possess what she would consider a happy home life and the urge to be supportive was very strong.

The sigh that came from the other end of the line held a world of adolescent exasperation. "Yes. No. Not exactly. You see, I haven't known him long and…"

Hearing footsteps stomp down the stairs, Joyce hurriedly said, "She's coming!"

"Ooh! Then goodbye!" There was a quick click and Mrs. Summers hung up just as her daughter came downstairs. Joyce scanned Buffy critically. Her daughter's hair was tied back in a no-nonsense bun and she was sporting a close-fitting, long-sleeved top. It fit her snugly without being too revealing; Buffy said she didn't want to have her clothes flapping around her when she fought.

Buffy paused and looked at the telephone curiously. "Who was that, Mom?"

"Wrong number," Joyce replied innocently. "Will you be meeting any of your friends for patrol tonight?"

"Only Willow. And Angel," she added, her reluctance to tell this to her mother very clear.

"That's good. What about Xander? Where is he?"

"Strangely enough, he decided to go Bronzing alone tonight. Said he wanted to keep an eye on things there." She hesitated and then probed her mother cautiously. "You're okay with my being around Angel and all? 'Cause I know how much you hate the thought of him hanging with me what with the whole unbreathing act of his."

"I-I saw the way he took care of you that night. If he hadn't been around, I don't like to think what might have happened. Besides, I have the feeling if I told you to stay away from him, you'd just meet him in secret. I remember enough of my own days as a wild young girl to know that."

"_You_ were wild? What did you do, chew gum in class?" Buffy snorted.

"I'll have you know I was quite the rebel in my day, young lady. Of course, I never came close to your level of juvenile delinquency. Somehow my pranks stopped short of arson and destruction of public property," Joyce ended.

Even though her mother was only teasing, Buffy felt immediately on the defensive. "Hey, that wasn't juvenile hijinks! That was a public service. The gym was full of vampires," Buffy protested.

"I know, dear. It's nice to know the truth at last and that my daughter isn't a dangerous felon." She kissed Buffy lightly on the forehead. "Have a good patrol. Be careful."

"So then Devon is singing and the band is playing like wow! And the crowd is yelling for the Dingoes to encore the last song 'cause it was totally kickin' only one of their amps blew at the wrong moment 'cause the wires were worn out or something. So they had to quit early and the manager stiffed them out of part of their fee. But other than that it was a great night." Willow had been chattering non-stop about Oz since Buffy and Angel picked her up at her place.

"Willow, did you take caffeine before coming out with us on patrol tonight? You know how bad that is for you," Buffy chided.

"Only a little chocolate, I swear!" Willow protested.

"So Oz is the guy I smell on you?" Angel murmured. He had been content to let the two women talk, keeping an eye out for newly risen vampires. Older vampires avoided graveyards. Not only did they consider them clichéd images of vampire hideaways and hangouts, there was precious little to be found in the way of decent fresh, young meat. Clubs like the Bronze were a much better feeding ground in terms of variety and quantity. But with the Anointed One still gathering minions to swell his depleted ranks, it was a good idea to make a clean sweep before heading back into the more populated areas.

"Yeah. Willow's become a band groupie," Buffy teased.

"Buffy!" He didn't have to look at the redhead to know she was blushing furiously. Then she asked, "Y-you can smell Oz on me? What does he smell like?" She was curious to know what her boyfriend was like from Angel's unique point of view.

"Well, I can smell a really strong hair dye."

"Oh, yeah. His hair is blue this week."

This week? Angel wondered what other colors the boy favored. "I'd guess that he's a guitarist, right?"

"How'd you know?" Buffy was envious of Angel's sharpened senses. She wished she could sense things the way he did and wondered how she smelled to him. Something to find out for later…

Angel explained, "I can smell this resinous odor—probably from the stuff he uses on the strings."

"Cool," Willow exclaimed. When Angel didn't continue, she egged him on. "What else?"

"He had a chili dog with onions today—unless that was Xander."

"No. That was Oz all right. This is so neat!" Willow giggled.

"He favors natural fibers, cottons and light wools—but no leather or furs."

"Wow. You can tell all that from secondhand whiffing? I am impressed," Buffy responded.

Angel smiled and raised his arm so she nestled under it. After all the nights when he had denied himself her touch such simple gestures were enough to make his skin tingle. He could smell the spiciness of her desire, impatience and warmth as well. He was just considering snatching a kiss when he was reminded of the third person in their party.

Willow cleared her throat noisily before bringing Angel's attention back to the topic. "You are so on about the fibers. He likes wearing flannel. I think that's a grunge/slacker thing. Anything else?"

Angel shrugged. "That's about it. I'd have to meet him to know any more."

Willow bounced a little with enthusiasm. "Well, maybe after the slaying we could swing by the Bronze. He's playing there tonight."

Angel didn't answer. There was something else under the secondhand odor he could scent about Willow's person. He wasn't certain what it was. It smelt only vaguely familiar but he was sure it wasn't entirely human. However without being sure of his ground he said nothing to alarm the redheaded girl. He was genuinely fond of Willow. She was helpful, sweet, and shy and devoted to Buffy just like all the members of the Slayer's circle. She was exactly the sort of girl his mother would have wanted him to marry if he ever had put his philandering ways behind him. There was no way he'd hurt her until he had concrete evidence of what was so off about her new boyfriend's odor. Checking out the Bronze sounded like a good idea.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

He glanced down to see Buffy staring at him intently through the darkness. He leaned down and brushed her lips fleetingly with his before drawing back. "Have you told your mother about my little problem yet?"

She looked down at the ground but the guilty flicker he caught in her eyes told him the truth. "I-I don't know how to tell her, Angel. She's just starting to warm up to you. Tonight she told me she was impressed with how you played doctor when I was jabbed with Mr. Pointy. Besides, I don't want to tell her when we could be finding a cure any day now. We fix this stupid curse thing-y, then I'll spill the beans to mom."

Angel was worried at Buffy's continued silence about the curse to her mother. The longer she kept this to herself, the greater Mrs. Summers's anger was likely to be when she found out the truth. But he knew there was no budging Buffy on the subject. So he picked up on the other matter that concerned him. "I'm also hoping we can find that vampire you saw with that box. I'm thinking it had to be important otherwise they wouldn't have made such an effort to stop you."

Buffy sighed. "Yeah. I still feel stupid I let him get away."

"Not your fault, beloved. If anything I should have been able to stop him. There _were_ two of us."

"Only you had to take care of me what with the impaledness," Buffy groused.

She could talk of her brush with death in that flippant style of hers but Angel didn't like to think about how close he'd come to losing her. Holding her just a little bit tighter, they continued to search through the darkness for fledglings and other things that went bump in the dark.

This was going to be one of the good sets; Oz knew it. The band was in sync and the crowd was totally feeling them, getting into the vibe. It was always a challenge to be heard over dozens the mindless chatter of buzzing voices, the shatter of glasses being dropped or gum wrappers being snapped open as people surreptitiously tried to freshen their breaths. But when everything was clicking, it was like nothing else.

Lately, though, things had been different. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was like he could sense when the club was getting really excited, when the teenagers milling on the dance floor turned their attention towards the stage and not just the hot young bodies pressing up against theirs. He could hear the people and _knew_ when they were talking about him, Devon or some other member of the band. Musky scents would blow towards him courtesy of the Bronze's air conditioning and he could tell that it was the smell of teenaged lust. He didn't know how he knew. He simply could, just as he could tell when it came from a guy or a girl.

He tried to shake off the sensation and tell himself it was only the residual effects of secondhand smoke. He had refused—again—one of Devon's persistent offers of weed. Devon himself didn't take all that much but when he had some he always liked to share. It was his idea of being generous. Oz didn't care for it and had told Devon politely but firmly that he didn't think they had to take drugs just because they were in a band. Devon didn't press the issue but he always offered anyway in case Oz changed his mind.

Oz had sniffed the tangy odor of the weed and shaken his head irritatingly. Somehow the smell had been more troubling this night than usual and his head had swum briefly before stepping into the relatively clearer air of the stage. That's when it began.

As the teenagers filled the club, he smelled the cloying odor of perfume, sweat, _nervous_ sweat (decidedly different from the other kind) and picked up various clear snatches of conversation.

"I'm telling you, Aura, that is not a Gucci handbag!" Harmony sniped.

"It is so, Harmony. My father got it for me and he's been trying to stay on my good side ever since he divorced from my mom. You just can't tell because it's so dark in here," Aura shot back. Then Cordelia Chase sat beside them and Oz pricked up his ears as the others began talking about the new company she was keeping.

"Well, look who it is! Wait, who is it? Aura, do you know this girl?" Harmony queried, ostentatiously turning her shoulder on the slender brunette.

"Ha ha. Funny, Harmony. Your wit is as high as your grades," Cordelia murmured, her eyes searching out Devon. Oz wasn't sure but she didn't seem as focused on Devon as usual. It was like she was going through the motions and only pretending to be interested in him.

"Oh, wait! I remember who you are. You're Cordelia Chase. It's been so long since you've hung with us, instead of that group of losers like that Willow freak, I'd almost forgotten your name. So how is Xander and his pals? Still on the Fashion Deficient list?" Harmony's eyebrows arched as if she'd made a particularly funny joke while Aura, Deborah, Lily and the other Cordettes tittered dutifully.

"God, Harmony, you are such a sheep. Did it ever occur to you that there are other things in life besides fashion and shoes?" Cordelia snapped, her temper clearly frayed.

The way the other girls gaped at her it was obvious such a thought had never entered their tiny little minds. "Cordy, what is wrong with you? Did you hit your head or something?" another girl demanded. Oz thought her name was Candy or something equally babyish; he couldn't really remember.

"It's just there are…things going on in the world and this town and you people can't see past the ends of your surgically altered noses!" Cordelia replied with an irritated toss of her hair.

"Hey, that's not fair! My nose isn't altered," Aura said triumphantly.

"Oh, you mean those three weeks you disappeared you really were in Italy?" Lily purred.

"That's right!" Aura huffed.

"So how come you didn't come back with a tan?" Harmony demanded, a question that was repeated by the others.

"It-it rained the whole time," Aura muttered defiantly.

"In July?" Lily exclaimed.

Oz could see Cordelia mentally tuning out her friends. She fairly reeked of dissatisfaction and her eyes were roaming the club as if searching for another face. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she had another boyfriend. But he'd have known if Devon had dumped her. The guy would have mentioned it even in passing.

He shook his head. This was insane. Cordelia and her friends were sitting in the _back row of the club._ He shouldn't have been able to hear them at all. What the hell was going on?!

Dismissing Cordelia and her equally vapid friends for the moment, he let his attention drift to other people. It helped reap positive karma to maintain eye contact especially with the girls and the fingering he practiced for the band's songs wasn't intricate enough to require his entire attention.

That's when he felt it. A sensation like an icy dagger shot up his spine and his hands faltered, an ugly screech erupting from his guitar. Devon shot him a look out of the corner of his eye but to his credit kept right on singing.

Oz cast his eye around for the source of the nasty sensation and his eyes locked on a tall guy with pink hair and three earrings in one ear. The punk look was so 70s but this guy wore it as if he'd known nothing else in his life. He was currently leaning over a pretty brunette girl with purple dye running along the bottom edge of her hair.

There was something wrong with that dude. The very sight of him was making Oz's skin crawl and he had to resist the urge to leap through the air and drag him off that girl by force. He didn't understand it; it was a combination of gut-wrenching disgust and the feeling he was going to rolf. But he'd never seen that guy before in his life! Why the total hate?

Oz started to hyperventilate. The sounds in the club shot up until the din seemed to attack him from all sides; they even drowned out the music. The low lights turned blinding, became klieg intensity, and the smells were too much with a rancid combo of sour sweat, nacho cheese, pretzels, makeup, beer and piss. In a minute he was going to hurl all over the front rows and wouldn't the manager be super pissed about that?

He blinked hard, forcing back the nausea. When reality snapped back into place, he saw to his dismay that Pink Hair and Purple Streak had disappeared. Where could they have gone?

The song ended and Devon was just about to launch into another tune when Oz pulled at the bottom of his shirt. "Yo, Dev. Gotta take a quick break."

Devon scowled at him and covered the mike so the audience couldn't hear. "Oz, are you nuts? We've got another six songs to play! Can't you hold it until after the set?"

"No. It's a puking thing. Gotta let it out or else."

Devon ran his hand through his hair and did a quick calculation. "You still gonna be well enough to play?"

Oz had already hopped off the stage. "In a minute, I'll either know or won't care." Devon held a hasty whispered conference with the other members and started up another song, one that didn't require a guitarist only a soft beat of the drums and heavy crooning. Oz jumped off the stage and ran his eye quickly around the club. The guy was gone along with the creepy-spinal-cord impression he'd roused in Oz. Following a hunch, he quickly opened the Bronze's side door and stepped into the alley. He paused as he took in the scene before him.

Purple Streak was crouched, crying and shaking, on the cement as a dark-haired boy hugged her body and spoke soothingly to her. "It's okay. You're safe now. But you should probably join your friends and go home in a group."

The girl lifted a teary face to his. "Wh-what was that thing?"

"It was…" The boy became aware of Oz's presence and turned his head sharply in his direction. "Oh, hey! Oz, right? Um, what are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you that. It's Xander, isn't it? Willow's friend? So what happened here?"

"Oh, um, well, this girl was being molested by this Sid Vicious throwback and I thought I'd lend my manly assistance by sticking my face in the way of his fist." Indeed, the guy was sporting a dark, ugly bruise on his right cheek. It looked painful.

Xander staggered up, dragging Purple Streak's dead weight. She clung to his shirt—a loud combination of colors that should never have been in the same room together much less the same piece of fabric—and sniffed loudly. "T-thanks for saving me. I'd better get inside. I feel like such an idiot, coming out here alone with some guy I didn't even know!" She scrubbed at her face hard as if punishing herself for not thinking straight.

"Hey, we've all made mistakes with the Dating Game. If I knew you better, I could tell you some stories. The important thing is we've all survived. Now get your friends, run along home and from now on get in before dark just like your mother told you to."

The girl smiled feebly at him, darted towards the alley entranceway and after looking both ways ran back towards the Bronze front door. Her heels also kicked up a small dust cloud as she walked away. Oz could detect an odd ashyness in the air that was nothing like cigarettes. He lifted his head and sniffed before wondering what the hell he was doing.

Oz and Xander looked at each other for a moment. Xander stuck his hands deep in his pocket and rocked back and forth on his sneakered feet. He'd come to the Bronze tonight so he could check out Willow's new squeeze unhindered by his best friend's presence. The vampire had distracted him, though, and now he found himself scrambling to explain himself. "So, Oz. How was the playing tonight?"

"All right."

"Uh huh." The talk petered out uncomfortably. "So…I wanted to thank you. You know, for that thing you're doing for Willow. That's, that's really upstanding. Buffy'll be thrilled."

"Welcome. Devon's not too happy but we've done enough private gigs for his friends so he shouldn't complain."

The silence returned and Xander shuffled his feet. "I, uh, gotta get going and see if I can keep this swelling down to Quasimodo size."

"Sure." Oz paused. "What about the little pink powder puff?"

"Him? Gone. Guess taking on a helpless girl was one thing. But one look at the Xandman and he took a powder!" The forced humor didn't make any impression on Oz and Xander's pained grimace showed he was just as unimpressed at it. "Why, were you after him? He a pal of yours?"

"No. He just didn't…feel right."

"Feel right? I didn't feel him myself. Well, not much." Xander raised his hand to his cheekbone and winced at the contact. "Look, Oz, this kinda stings so I'm heading home to put something cold on it. Sorry I can't catch the rest of your act."

"It's called a set, actually," Oz corrected absently.

Xander nodded vigorously, his dark hair flopping over his eyes. "Right, right. Got that. Well, see you tomorrow at school!" Waving goodbye, he turned and strode off down the street. Oz's sharpened eyesight just barely made out the bulge of a long, skinny object stuck in Xander's back pocket and making a bulge under his shirt.

"Huh. Weird," he commented.

Buffy shifted in her hard seat and made an effort to look interested in the trig problem marked out on the chalkboard. The graveyards had been dead last night (pardon the pun) and, by the time they got to the Bronze, the show was over. The lead guitarist had taken ill and had to go home anyway. That had freaked Willow a little and she'd rushed home to call Oz and see if he was all right. Angel had accompanied her to see that she made it home safely.

Buffy would have liked to think all the non-activity was a blessing. But maybe all it meant was that evil was just gearing up to do something really spectacular. She frowned. She was starting to think like Giles. Things were bad; call in the Slayer. Things were good, call in the Slayer and dump on her with warnings about all the nastily brewing evil out there. She just couldn't win.

[Well, no news is good news. Best not look this gift donkey in the mouth.] She smiled at another thought. She was 17 today! As of 12:00 this morning she was legally of age! She'd be able to drive—well, she would if she could persuade her mother to see reason, pass the driver's test and handle the car. She was a few years away from being legal to drink and vote but she wasn't particularly interested in those things anyway. There was really only one thing that was weighing on her mind.

Being 17 meant that she was officially ready for sex. She knew what _that_ was about; she was exposed to enough of it through the media to have a pretty good handle on the subject. And with thoughts of sex came thoughts of Angel. She'd already seen him half naked and had fantasized extensively about the other half. However, her mind drew a blank when it came to his—well, you know. She'd seen pictures back in Hemery in pilfered Playgirl mags and giggled over them with her friends. But the actuality was an unseen mystery.

Angel was so…attentive to her, more so since they'd reconciled. She figured it was partially because he was so afraid of losing her he wanted to spend every moment together that he could. Ever since the encounter with her own stake lodged in her stomach, Angel and Buffy had stepped things up in their nightly groping sessions.

Those cool hands and lips that stirred parts of her body and made her tingle would glide expertly over her skin, leaving her panting and eager for more. He always knew just how far he could push things. The slightest hint of nerviness on her part and he would back off. It never seemed to bother him to have to cut things short and he never sulked or pouted about being "led on" the way human boys would have. However, she often felt a hardness pressing into her belly that told her what they did together left him as pent up as it did her. On nights like those she was glad to crawl in through her bedroom window and tidy herself a bit before her mother could see her. One look at her mussed hair and clothing and kiss-swollen lips and her mom would have a pretty good idea that patrolling had involved more than vampire kills.

But the curse…that always drenched her happy thoughts. There was big fear as well as lustiness in those penetrating dark eyes when he was with her now. Often Angel backed off before she did, panting needlessly for air, gold flickering in his eyes. She was foolishly proud that she could make him lose control like that but pride disappeared before the worry she could see etched on his handsome face.

She was jolted out of Angel thoughts when the class bell rang. She gathered up her books and decided to make a quick swing by the library. There had to be some good news about the whole curse dealie. If not, then she was sure her Watcher would come up with an apocalypse or two to keep her minds on less lusty thoughts.

She bumped into Willow who was slouching through the halls and Buffy sighed to herself. She could guess what was making the redhead look so down in the mouth. "Hey, Willow. Oz still on the sick list?"

"Yeah. He said he was just a little sick when I talked to him. But he's been staying home more often these days. I talked to a couple of his teachers and they said he always had perfect attendance before this year. He's been casual in classes but he always did the homework and aced the tests and they say this just isn't like him. Not that I really know what he's like. But you gotta admit it's of the weird."

"What's of the weird? Is this more Sunnydale weirdness we're talking about, ladies?" Xander walked up behind them and punched Willow lightly in the arm.

She shook her head and then shrugged helplessly. "I don't think so. Oz is all sick-y." Then she noticed the bruise on his face. Overnight it had gone from being reddish to a dark purple. Oh no. Had his dad done that? She averted her eyes but Buffy saw it as well.

The Slayer was appalled at the ugly mark. "Xander? What happened to your face?"

"Had a little run-in with a guy who evidently didn't get the word that punk is as dead as he was. Speaking of Oz, I ran into him last night. He seemed all right when I saw him," Xander commented.

"Last night? You saw Oz last night? He didn't tell me that when I called him!" Willow was upset. She thought Oz should have mentioned this to her. She was supposed to be his girlfriend—wasn't she?

"Maybe he thought it wasn't important. It was a totally non-special bonding moment between two guys. Unless you count the part where I dusted that vamp in the Bronze alleyway," Xander added as he opened his locker.

"You dusted the vamp?" Buffy asked, disbelief evident in her eyes.

"Hey, you don't have to sound so surprised, you know! I've killed a couple of bloodsuckers in my day!" Xander retorted.

Willow rushed to soothe Xander's ego. "We know, Xander. I think Buffy was just wondering whether Oz saw you."

"No. He came out after all the excitement was over. But he was following the guy like he knew there was something odd about him. He didn't say word one about being sick."

"That _is_ weird. He tells Willow he's sick but he wasn't when you saw him. Then he's of the non-showing in school today. Think something's up with him?" Buffy mused.

"No up with Oz. He's perfectly okay. He's just having an off day, that's all," Willow stressed. She wasn't going to let Buffy get any ideas about her boyfriend. One of them had to have a normal guy in her life.

"Off _days._ Plural. Remember?" Buffy turned to Xander. "But what did he have to say about the vamp you dusted that he totally didn't see you dust?"

"Just that the guy didn't _feel_ right to him." Xander made air quotes with his fingers. "If I didn't know it, I'd say he came out there to help the girl the vamp was macking on. It's a good thing I was there otherwise Oz might have wound up being snack food, too."

"Yay you, Xand." Willow beamed at her childhood friend.

"Ditto." Now it was Buffy's turn to punch Xander on the arm and he pretended to stagger as he complained about her Slayer strength.

"Ow! Watch it, you murderous woman, you! I bruise easily. See?" He pointed to the bruise on his cheek and Willow jumped up to kiss it lightly.

"You poor boy. Maybe you should be staying at home with Oz," she teased.

"Yeah. The two of you could have more guy bonding moments," Buffy chimed in.

Xander immediately protested the implied assault on his manhood. "No way! I am totally into girls. Willow, you know that."

"There _was_ Ms. French. You had the whole older woman thing that's supposed to be such a scoring point with high schoolers," Buffy mused.

"If you ignore the part where she turned into a mantis who wanted to cut your head off during sex," Willow added.

"Miss French doesn't count. She only wanted me for my body."

"No. Just your sperm," Buffy teased.

Willow thought about his other dating choice. "Then there was Ampata. She really liked Xander. I don't think she would have killed him. But the life sucking thing would have gotten old after awhile. After she ran through your friends, you'd have had to start ordering in pizza delivery boys just to keep her happy."

"Ampata was…okay, not such good luck there. But may I point out your dating choices, ladies?"

"Yeah, yeah, we know. Me dating the undead, Willow hooking up with a demon computer. Blah blah blah. But Ms. French was wrongness from the word 'go,' Xander. Even if she wasn't an insect, she was a teacher macking on a student! That's wrong on so many levels. You should never have gone to her house."

"I guess. But she made it sound so innocent and I was really into her. Proof positive the Xandman prefers the ladies." He waggled his eyebrows and said the last two words with a suggestive leer.

"Too bad the ladies don't want you, Xander. Were any of you at the Bronze last night?" Cordelia Chase came sauntering over and began rummaging in her locker, pointedly not looking at any of them.

"No. What happened at the Bronze?" Buffy's tone was cool. She couldn't really warm up to Cordelia although she had to admit the cheerleader was useful at times. At least with her they didn't have to pretend Sunnydale was a normal little burg the way they did with the other students.

"Nothing, that's what. It was total Deadsville and I'm not just talking about vamps. Even the band sucked."

Willow bristled at the unintended insult to her boyfriend. "What was wrong with the band? Dingoes Ate My Baby totally rocks!"

"Oh, please. I've found better rocking skiing in Aspen," Cordelia said slightingly. "And what kind of a name is that anyway? Basing your band name on a tragic trial concerning a woman who may have killed her own kid is majorly uncool. It'd be like naming the pet dog Jeffrey Dahmer. Total ick."

"How can you talk about them like that? Aren't you dating Devon?"

At the mention of her boyfriend, Cordelia appeared a trifle uneasy. "Yeah, well, just because I'm seeing the lead singer doesn't mean I automatically approve of everything he stands for. I'm his girlfriend not a sheep."

Willow opened her mouth to retort when Xander asked, "Look, Cordelia. If there's no news of demonness to report and you didn't see anything at the Bronze, why are you talking to us? You're not going to talk about shoes, are you?" He cringed away from her in mock horror.

"Like you know anything about shoes, Harris," she sniffed, staring down at his sneakers with open disdain. "I-I just wondered if there were any danger going on that I should know about. Just to be on the safe side," she added hastily. "I don't want to be hanging out with you losers if I can help it."

"Nada. Zip. Zilch. Just the Sunnydale usual," Buffy said. "If we find out somebody's targeted you, we'll give you a head's up."

"Thanks, Buffy. In the meantime you can handle all the Sunnydale horror and I'll get on with having a life." Cordelia finished packing her bag with whatever she needed. She shut her locker door and swung away without another glance at them.

Xander stared thoughtfully at the departing cheerleader. "Is it my imagination or was she trying to hold a civilized conversation?"

Buffy shrugged as she pushed away thoughts of Cordelia Chase. "Who knows? I'm gonna drop by the library during lunch and see if Giles has any good news to tell me."

Buffy was halfway down the hall when she realized that none of her friends had mentioned her birthday. Maybe Slayers didn't live all that long but you'd think Willow would have remembered. She was swept by a wave of self-pity when she considered it. Well, maybe there was one person who'd be more excited about the good news…

That night, as they patrolled near the docks following a lead from Willy, she cautiously sounded him out about his feelings. "Angel, I wanted to talk you about something."

"What is it, Buffy?" She'd been unusually animated, chattering away like an over-stimulated magpie. But he had detected the tension running under her words and wondered what was causing it. He held his peace and waited for her to come clean with whatever was bothering her.

"You know I'm 17 today. As of this morning, I officially became a grownup."

"Congratulations. Is this your way of asking me what I got you?" he murmured, his eye teasing.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Actually, it wasn't the gift she was thinking about. When he didn't answer, she peered into his face and gulped. How could she say this? How could she inform him about how important 17 was in terms of her life? Was he even aware of California's laws about the age of consent? What should she say anyway? "I'm ready, big guy. Take me?" "I think, since a Slayer's life is so short, we should be seizing the moment. So here I am—ready to do some seizing?" It wasn't even a consideration what with the other problem. She thought and shifted the line of conversation a bit.

"I-is it really hard?" Thinking about what she'd said, she flushed crimson and fumbled for better phrasing. "I mean, is it bad…being around me?"

"It's not bad. Knowing that I can't be with you…like that isn't great. But I'm not completely unhappy spending time with you." His face softened slightly and she could see the hints of a rare smile hovering around his lips. "You're the best part of my unlife, Buffy. I wouldn't trade these moments with you for anything."

"But no happiness for you. Not from me anyway." They were approaching the waterside now. Willy had told them, after a certain amount of dual persuasion by her fists and Angel's casual breakage, that strange deliveries had been coming into Sunnydale, attended by an unusually large number of vampires. Rumor had it they weren't just there for the sailor snacks either.

"You make me as happy as you can. This curse isn't your fault or your problem to fix," Angel told her.

"No, but it is a big old crimp in the Buffy-and-Angel scenario." She breathed a gusty sigh and kicked at a piece of broken bottle on the pavement. The next moment she chided herself. She should be all stealthy like Angel not making noises so the demons could hear her coming. "Giles says he hasn't come up with anything yet. But he's got Jenny Calendar helping."

Angel's surprise was apparent even if his expression didn't change much. "She is? I would have thought…I didn't think she'd want to help."

"That's what Giles said. But I told him Ms. Calendar probably didn't want to keep following you around worrying about the 'moment of happiness' loophole and he went to talk to her. She's totally on board with our little plan. She's even got friends helping her on the Internet."

Angel cocked his head at a human-shaped person flitting ahead and gestured minutely. Buffy couldn't seem to sense other vamps the way she could him. But she had learned to interpret his signals. Striding away from him to give herself fighting room, she twirled Mr. Pointy between her fingers and continued musing about Giles and Jenny Calendar. "I'm thinking that if we find a spell that'll help you, Ms. Calendar can get a normal life—well, as normal as one ever gets here on the Hellmouth. Maybe she and Giles can get together and do adult stuff."

"Adult stuff?" Angel raised his eyebrows and that same half-smile flickered across his mouth before vanishing again. "You mean like what your mother wanted with Ted?"

"Ewwww! No going into Ted-and-mom ickiness. I don't want to think how far things might have gotten with him if we hadn't found out he was a robot." Buffy gave a shudder and hugged herself against the memories.

"But you think Giles and Ms. Calendar might get close if she didn't have to worry about me," Angel probed.

"Get close. I guess they could except that Giles is so old," Buffy said in the casual way of all kids dismissing their elders' sexual drives.

"He's not as old as I am, Buffy."

"Yeah, but that's different. Giles looks old and his…equipment is old-being while yours is always gonna be young and I hope we get to the docks soon 'cause I haven't killed anything all night and Mr. Pointy is getting antsy." Buffy began pacing faster, glad the night hid her face because she was sure she was turning all shades of red. She could feel Angel's amused stare on her back and wanted to slug him. She knew she was being prejudiced and unfair about her assessment of Giles's desires and abilities in bed. She just didn't like to think of _her_ Watcher getting up to those kinds of shenanigans. There was a sick-making factor in those ideas that flung her into full denial mode whenever the subject was broached.

"You can't deny that Giles deserves to be happy with a woman if that's what he wants. And if Ms. Calendar feels the same way, then I shouldn't stand in the way of that. And neither should you," he added.

"But, Angel, this is GILES. Old, tweedy, boring book guy! He shouldn't—I mean, he doesn't get…"

"What? A normal, human life? Love? Joy? There are those who would say the Slayer isn't supposed to have those things either. And yet you try," he pointed out as gently as he could.

She huffed noisily. "I hate it when you're all logic-y." The vampire stiffened and cast his head up sharply. "What is it?"

"I recognize one of those vampires." He nodded at a vamp that was runty and kinda small heading towards one of the dock warehouses. "It's Dalton."

"Dalton?" The name was unfamiliar to her.

"He was in the cavern with the Anointed One when they were trying to recruit me. Remember?"

"Uh, no. There were a lot of vamps in that place. I was kinda focused on just one." She smiled at him, a ray of sunshine in the eternal gloom of his night. He had to resist pulling her into the shadows for a quick makeout session.

"Well, it looks like he's involved in more night work." The vampire in question darted into a patch of streetlight before disappearing into the shadows again and Buffy was struck with the sense of recognition.

"Hey, I know him. That's my mystery vamp from when I was going toe to toe with the heavyweight champion of the vampire world." Buffy squinted. But without vampire night vision all she could see was a swirl of shadowy figures converging on one of the warehouses. The crates had all been unloaded hours before and now the demons were breaking in to seize whatever prize caught their interest. "Unless some kids have decided that's the new place for making out, I'd say we have undead activity."

"I'll put the scare into them. Dalton isn't much of a scrapper. When the fighting starts..."

"…I'll deal with Short and Scrawny. Got it." Angel nodded sharply. He loped off and was soon lost to sight in the darkness.

Buffy waited until she heard the sounds of shock and fighting coming from inside the warehouse. Sure enough, her target came bursting out of the doors, carrying another package. She stepped into his path and graced him with a mocking smile. "Ooh, finally. And here I thought this was going to be a dull night."

Dalton skidded to a stop when he saw her and began trembling. "Slayer…"

"You remember me! I'm flattered. Now hand over the box, Tiny, and I'll make this quick."

The trembling increased and then he did something that completely floored her. He began crying.

"Oh, come on!" she fumed. "I haven't even touched you yet. Even Willy doesn't cry until I've actually started pummeling him. What kind of a vamp are you?"

"A cowardly one if I remember Dalton. He always did hide behind the strongest vampire around." Angel came sauntering out of the warehouse, lightly flicking vamp dust from his clothes. The creatures in there obviously hadn't been much of a challenge. He grabbed Dalton by the scruff of his neck and forced him to the pavement.

Dalton hadn't stopped blubbering and crying since confronting Buffy. "Angelus, please. Don't hurt me! I-I can help you. Honestly!"

"Vampires aren't known for their honesty, Dalton. And weren't you with the Anointed One when I saw you last? You were making a big stink about how I'd killed Darla and wasn't to be trusted." Angel's ridges appeared and he growled through his fangs. "You may have been right about the not trusting part."

Dalton gulped and his yellowed eyes behind the glasses shot between Angel and the Slayer. "But I can tell you where the Anointed One is, what his plans are…" He lifted the oblong box in his arms. "Just take a look at what's inside this!"

"How stupid do you think we are? We open that and probably something nasty comes out." Angel shook the little guy until Dalton's head flopped back and forth on his shoulders.

"Y-you're right! Only I don't know what it is. He hasn't told me the details. He just told me to pick up the pieces. He sends me. I go." He lowered his voice dramatically. "I can tell you this much. It's some plan about destroying the righteous."

"Destroying the righteous? Well, that's helpful. Only not. Angel, do you want to stake this guy or should I?" Buffy yawned, spinning Mr. Pointy meaningfully.

"Wait, please, don't!" Buffy was getting bored. She'd never seen any vampire beg for its life before much less cry like this one did and frankly it was kinda disgusting.

"Buffy, I think Dalton could be useful."

"Useful? He's a vampire!" At Angel's look, she amended, "Without a soul."

"Soul?" Dalton echoed, obviously confused.

"I remember Dalton from when he was with the Master. He was turned because he was an expert at deciphering ancient texts. He was always basically harmless. He never even liked to go hunting with the other vampires. He preferred to stay in with his books. Isn't that right, Dalton?" Angel asked, clapping his hand hard enough on Dalton's shoulder to make the smaller vamp wince. "Let's just get the box and Dalton safe and see what it is we're dealing with here."

"Fine. Whatever." Buffy picked up the box and stomped along behind Angel. "Some birthday this is shaping up to be," she muttered.

Buffy glanced again at the box on the car seat beside her. It was the same funny shape as the other box she'd seen this vampire carrying. The Anointed One wanted it, too, which meant it was mundo important. Was it an artifact? A weapon? She wondered if it would explode when they opened it. Dalton hadn't been able to tell them anything—only that it and several other boxes had been gathered by the Anointed from all over the world. He hadn't been allowed to see what was inside them.

When the car finally stopped, Buffy looked up and frowned at the exterior of the building. "Uh, Angel? Did you take a wrong turn somewhere? Why are we at the Bronze?"

"I want a clear open space but one where _he_ can't escape. This should be perfect." Angel headed towards the Bronze, pushing the reluctant Dalton in front of him with Buffy in tow carrying the package.

"But the Bronze isn't exactly open. We'd have to—" She watched as Angel pulled open the side door without any apparent difficulty with the lock. "Okay, problem solved." She entered behind him, treading with care in the darkness. "How did you know the door would be open?"

"SURPRISE!!!!" All the lights came on and Buffy crouched reflexively. She saw Giles, Xander, Willow, her mom, Cordelia and Ms. Calendar all beaming at her. A large banner reading "Happy Birthday, Buffy" was strung from the ceiling and a small pile of presents was on one table. On cue, Dingoes Ate My Baby began playing a fractured, frantic version of "Happy Birthday."

Dalton gaped in stupefaction while Angel smiled at Buffy. "Happy birthday, love."

"Oh, Angel." Tears sparkled in her eyes. Her friends hadn't forgotten. This was so wonderful.

Then Xander noticed the uninvited guest. "Hey, who's this guy?"

Buffy shot a quick glance at the watchful members of the band. "Um, this is Dalton, he's an old _friend_ of Angel's."

The emphasis was lost on Xander. "Deadboy has friends? I thought you were working the anti-social bit pretty hard there." Then he understood and his eyes widened. "Oh. A FRIEND!" He peered at Dalton who was apparently trying to make himself look even smaller. Xander lowered his voice. "Just a Deadboy friend or a friend of ours, too?"

Buffy murmured with an innocent smile, "That all depends on him and whether he wants to remain unstaked. Could we all go to the back room, guys?" The others surrounded Buffy and Angel, the latter keeping a keen eye on Dalton the whole time.

The Dingoes finished their song and Devon watched them leave, scowling at their backs. "Man, I don't believe it. We go to all the trouble to play for these clowns and they just walk off! Remind me again why we're doing this, Oz?"

"'Cause I asked you nicely. And you owe me for that time you woke up naked in that—"

Devon interrupted him. "Okay, man, you promised never to talk about that!"

"No problems, then? We'll just play some tunes until they come back."

"Whatever." Devon swung into a cover of the Beatles's "I Saw Her Standing There." Oz followed him with practiced ease but his mind was elsewhere. He was no longer so psyched about this gig any more. That tall, dark-haired guy and the little weasel with him were giving him the same fingernails-on-a-chalkboard vibe he'd gotten off the Pink Punk from last night. Xander had shown up then out of the blue. Now these creepy dudes were hanging out with Willow and her friends. Just what kind of crowd did Willow run with, anyway?

Buffy fumbled around the lid of the box until she triggered the latch. When the lid flew up, she peered into the opening. "Oh. Just what I always wanted for my birthday. An arm in armor."

Angel had stepped back, a look of fear on his face. It was different from the expression he'd had in the library when he'd seen the Kalderash symbol. There was outrage and disbelief mingled with it and he grabbed Dalton and dragged him over to the miniature casket. "You little bastard. THIS is what the Anointed One's been up to!?! Is he insane?"

Cordelia was instantly on the alert. "Who's the Anointed One?"

Dalton peered into the depths of the box. Now it was his turn to be shocked. "No, it can't be."

Buffy didn't get it. What was so spooky about an arm? "Guys. So it's an arm. What's the big—?"

The next second the arm leaped out of the box and clamped onto her throat. She grabbed at it, wheezing, as the fingers dug into her tender skin. Giles and her mother both grabbed at the arm as the whole room erupted into cries of alarm. Neither of them seemed to make any impression and the fingers tightened their grip. In the end it took Angel and Buffy's combined strength to make the arm release its grip. Together the pair of them threw the limb back into the box and slammed down the cover.

Buffy leaned on the closed lid, gasping for breath. Her mother rubbed her back and cradled her shaking body. "Buffy, are you all right? Maybe you should sit down."

She pulled in more air through her burning throat and shook her head. When she could speak again, she rasped, "No, I'm good. Not gonna be jogging a marathon in the next few minutes but at least I can breathe. Man, that thing had major grip."

Dalton had made no move to run even when the two warriors had been distracted. He only slumped into a chair and stared vacantly at the box. Xander shoved him hard and snapped, "All right, shorty. Start talking. What's with the vamp version of 'snakes in a can?' "

Angel was the one to answer. "I-it's the Judge. Well, uh, part of him anyway. It's from a legend, older even than most vampires. He's a demon that was once brought forth to rid the Earth of the plague of humanity. He's supposed to separate the righteous from the wicked and to burn the righteous down."

"How terrible a problem could that be? There aren't many righteous humans in the world," Cordelia said. At everyone's exasperated stares, she shrugged. "Well, there aren't. Just listen to the news. Most people are totally selfish and only care about what they can get from you."

"An attitude you're deeply familiar with, I'm sure," Giles murmured.

"Oh, that's the gratitude I get for putting up those streamers? Next time you want help with decorating tips you're on your own, mister," the brunette girl carped.

Now Dalton spoke up, his voice timid in front of so many strangers. "Actually, the Judge is supposed to do more than destroy the righteous. H-he targets anything with human feeling—love, tenderness, jealousy, kindness, affection—and destroys it. That would affect a lot of demons as well."

"Riiiiight. Because demons are so known for their wuvving hearts," Xander said mockingly.

Dalton glared at him, angry for the first time since being captured. "Look, a lot of demons hate humans. I won't lie about that. But there are some who live peacefully in society. There are things we really enjoy in the world and we care about our families, same as humans do. Vampires are people, too, you know."

"Sure, you are. Only people who regularly kill human beings for their food. Not a great selling point in my book," Cordelia returned, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Another reason why the Judge is a bad idea. We like the earth the way it is, humans and all, and it'd be a catastrophe for us if all the humans were gone. For one thing, what would we vampires eat?" At the reminder that there was a soulless demon in their midst, Dalton shrank from their baleful stares. "Not that I eat any humans. I usually just go for the butchers' blend," he muttered. "But other vampires would have a problem. I don't know what the Anointed One could be thinking!"

"_Who_ is this Anointed One?" Cordelia demanded. "Is he the latest Sunnydale baddie? Why am I always the last to know these things?"

The others ignored her as Willow gestured at the lid of the sealed box, careful to keep her distance. "What about the Judge? Why is there only an arm here?"

Giles murmured, "If I recall the story correctly, t-the Judge couldn't be killed. An army was sent against him and most of the poor unfortunates mustered to f-fight him…died in the attempt. In the end, they were able to dismember him but, uh, not kill him."

"Explains the liveliness of the one-armed bandit here." Buffy peered at Dalton. "So where's the rest of him?"

"With the Anointed One and his minions in an underground crypt. He's been having the pieces brought to him for assembly. The crypt is much deeper down than any of the ones you've been to, Slayer," Dalton responded.

"So that's why I haven't been able to track him down," Buffy exclaimed. "Then I guess you're gonna help us find him, Dalton."

The demon's eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "You can count on it."

Buffy blinked. She hadn't expected cooperation. Frankly, she had thought she would have to beat up Dalton to get him to play ball. "You will? Why the helpy-ness? Not that I'm not complaining about it. It's just a little on the suspicious side, you being one of his loyal minions and all."

Dalton bent his head almost shamefully. "W-well, I like books. Love them, really. Something tells me that, if the Judge were brought together in one piece, I'd be one of those targeted for slaughter."

"You guess rightly," Angel murmured. "In any military coup, the intelligentsia are always the first ones up against the wall."

Xander added, "Boy, when they say a little learning is a dangerous thing, they're not kidding."

"What about this piece? W-what do we do with it?" Willow asked.

"The Judge is only dangerous to the human populace when it's finally assembled. If even one piece is missing, then the Anointed One's plans fall through," Dalton explained.

"Then it can't stay here. If this Anointed One is assembling the pieces, then the sooner we get this one out of Sunnydale, the better. Angel will have to take care of it," Jenny said. She locked eyes with the vampire and he read her intentions. His face assumed its usual stoicism as he strode over to the box.

Buffy didn't like where this was headed. All at once, she was reminded that Jenny wasn't necessarily batting for Angel's team. "Why does Angel have to be the one to go? I can take care of this just as easily as him."

"Are you prepared to leave the Hellmouth undefended for months?" Jenny demanded.

Buffy said, "Months?" What was the computer teacher asking Angel to do?

"Months? Just to dispose of an arm?" Mrs. Summers asked.

"W-why should it take months?" Willow added. "Can't we just bury it somewhere? Hello, this is Sunnydale, home of the excess graveyards."

The Kalderash woman was obviously not on board with this idea. "And risk the Anointed finding it and digging it up again? Not a great plan."

"I'm with Ms. Calendar. Let's get this thing out of Sunnydale—far, far away from me," Cordelia threw in.

Buffy turned to her boyfriend. "But why months, Angel?"

"I have to take this arm to the remotest part of the world to ensure its safety. I'll have to catch a cargo ship to Asia, maybe trek to Nepal…" Angel picked up the box as if the matter were already settled.

Buffy crossed her arms. She knew she was turning mulish, belying her newfound maturity, but she didn't care. "You know, those newfangled flying machines really are much safer than they used to be."

"I-I can't fly, Buffy. There's no sure way to guard against the daylight. The plane might have to touch down somewhere for an emergency stop or be forced to stall because of fog and the passengers forced off the plane."

"Not to mention all those big, shiny, oversized windows airports always seem to go in for. Guess you're taking a road trip, Deadboy. Don't let the Sunnydale door hit you in the butt on the way out!" Xander said with barely suppressed glee.

Angel ignored his jab. He stepped over to his unhappy girlfriend. "I-I don't like this any more than you do, Buffy. But there's no other choice."

"But it's my birthday." Her voice sounded treacherously close to a whine and Angel's unhappy silence shamed her. This was much more important than her own petty hopes and dreams. But she had only just renewed her closeness to her boyfriend and now he was going away, possibly for months, just to bury a stupid arm.

"I'll drive you to the docks," Jenny said and Buffy's eyes narrowed.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? All this time you said you'd try to help Angel and now you can't wait to run him out of town. I should have known better…" Too late she recalled that her mother was listening and Buffy clammed up.

"Help Angel with what? What does Angel need help with?" Mrs. Summers noted the tense, furtive looks on almost everyone's faces. Cordelia's wore an expression of annoyed confusion. "Mr. Giles? Is there something I need to know?"

"Not any more," Buffy muttered.

Giles sighed. Their attempts to give Buffy a happy birthday had come to naught, it appeared. There was no point in keeping up the pretense of jollity any longer. "Buffy, I thought you'd told your mother about this aspect of Angel's curse. Don't you think she needed to be informed?"

Cordelia was getting fed up with all the secrecy. "Huh? Informed about what? What am I missing here? What am I, invisible all of a sudden?"

"Buffy, we've tried. We've been trying for days and are no nearer a solution. This will give us some time. While he's gone we'll keep searching…" Jenny said.

"Sure. Unless he gets killed while he's away. I'd never know but that would solve the problem for you, wouldn't it?" Buffy replied bitterly.

"Buffy, that's not fair!" Willow chided. "Ms. Calendar, Giles and me, well, w-we've gone through all these books until our eyes are red and rolling in our sockets but we're coming up empty."

"Empty on what? Excuse me, could you people please focus on me and tell me what is the problem with Angel?" Cordelia demanded. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was to be ignored and no one seemed to care enough to keep her in the loop.

Dalton fidgeted, unnoticed, in the corner. Now that he had time to think things through, he wasn't certain going up against the Anointed One was such a good idea. Collin was small but he had already proven to have a lethal temper. He was growing into his strength as a vampire, too. A few vampires who had underestimated him had abruptly found themselves without eyeballs or missing fingers. If the boy learned he'd betrayed him, his punishment would be brutal. Dalton might even find himself on the business end of a stake.

He began to edge away from the bickering humans and Angel. He'd almost made it to the beaded curtain hanging over the opening to the back room when he nearly bumped into Oz. "Hey, guys. I think you should know the band got bored with playing to an empty room. They started helping themselves to the party snacks. Hope that's okay with you folks."

Dalton tried to rush him only to be jerked to a halt by Angel's meaty hand on his shoulder. "Hold it right there, you." The taller vampire slugged him so hard that Dalton crumpled to the floor. Oz raised his eyebrow at this show of gratuitous violence but nobody else seemed to think it was the least bit odd.

"Thanks, Oz. But I think we're gonna have to break things up early," Willow mumbled. The guitarist for the Dingoes saw the discontent in everybody's faces. Well, almost everybody's. Xander Harris seemed really happy for some reason. Also, the screwy vibe he was getting from the little guy sprawled on the floor and the big male who'd clocked him was even stronger up close and it took every bit of courage Oz had not to bolt screaming like a little girl.

"Sure. No problem. Devon didn't want this gig anyway. Just make sure you take your presents before you go, Buffy." The blue-haired boy nodded to them before retreating from the little group.

Devon was busily packing away the band's equipment and grumbling to nobody in particular about the waste of the night's activities. They actually hadn't had anything better to do. It's just that, if they were gonna play to please a girlfriend, at least she should have been hot. Not to rag on Oz; Willow was a nice girl. She just wasn't rocker gal material.

Cordelia Chase hadn't even paid much attention to him and she was supposed to be his girlfriend. It wasn't that he was jealous, exactly. Devon wasn't really into her type. She talked way too much and always about herself; he'd actually been considering dumping her. But it appeared as if she'd already launched a preemptive strike. This evening she'd seemed more into that Harris doofus than himself. Women. Go figure.

He swung open the Bronze side door as the quickest way to the van. As he exited, a vampire grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. "The Slayer! She in there?"

"Holy shit!" Devon couldn't believe it. He was face to face with one of the ugliest mugs he'd ever seen. The man's brows were bulging and twisted like somebody with a major bone disease and yellowish pointed teeth like fangs were snapping at him. Several others with equally deformed faces were with him.

"Screw this. Just break his neck and let's search the place. I'm pretty sure I smell Dalton's sleazy little trail leading to the door," another of the freaks said.

"You smell correctly," a perky voice said from the side door. The creature holding Devon turned his head and then casually hurled the mortal boy headfirst into the dumpster. As he passed out, Devon swore hazily to himself that was the last time he was doing any drugs…

Buffy and Angel tore into the Anointed One's minions. There were a lot more of them than Buffy could have anticipated and she didn't have any weapons other than Mr. Pointy. She sincerely hoped that the others stayed inside and out of her way. Somehow she doubted whether any of the party favors included crossbows.

Inside the nightclub, Giles cast about helplessly for something, _anything_, which would prove a useful weapon. When a vampire managed to make it into the Bronze past Buffy's guard, he picked up one of the Dingoes's drums and smashed it over the creature's head. Staggering from finding his arms pinned, the bloodsucker ran right into a cymbal wielded by Xander Harris, neatly severing his head from his shoulders.

Cordelia Chase cowered with Joyce, Jenny and Willow in the back room, guarding the arm and the still-unconscious Dalton. Willow had sketched her in on recent developments and the brunette cheerleader was fully engaged in showering them with accusations and self-pity. "Oh my god! Only at a party for Buffy Summers would we end up with demon gatecrashers! Why do these things keep happening to _me?_" she wailed.

"Karma," Willow answered dryly.

Cordelia glared at her. "Very funny, Willow. And didn't I ask you guys just this afternoon if there was new danger on the Hellmouth? When were you going to tell me Angel could lose his soul like someone losing luggage at the LAX airport?"

The redhead pretended to think about it. "Um, let's see. Never?"

Mrs. Summers ignored the bickering and took a quick peek through the beaded hanging. It provided absolutely no feeling of safety whatsoever and she couldn't help feeling exposed. But as usual she couldn't abandon her daughter even if Angel was by her side.

By now a few of the combatants had spilled into the club and the older Summers woman sucked in her breath as she saw Angel's other face was the first time. Hideous bumps had sprouted on his forehead and amber eyes gleamed, apparently devoid of human feeling. He seemed to take an almost savage delight in tearing into his fellow creatures and she shuddered. In the midst of all the other vampires, he looked no different than they. How could Buffy feel anything for such a monster even with his soul?

The next moment she saw him pivot and his sword flash out to block an attack aimed at her daughter's back and she understood. This creature didn't fight for himself alone. He fought to protect Buffy as well. She turned to see Ms. Calendar watching the action with an inscrutable expression. "Ms. Calendar, Buffy told me about Angel's history with your people. I-I can't imagine what that must be like, having that burden to bear. Having Buffy thrown into the mix must have been an unsettling development."

The woman's dark eyes met hers. "You could say that."

Joyce and the other woman had chatted intermittently as they prepared the Bronze for Buffy's surprise party. But the woman still remained a mystery to her. Ms. Summers struggled to continue the conversation. "You have an obligation to your people. But I have one to my daughter. I want Buffy to live a long, long time."

"So do I." She didn't have to say what she meant; Mrs. Summers understood. Ms. Calendar saw Angel as a palpable threat and one that had to be dealt with severely.

"Then why the rush to get rid of him? He helps Buffy, certainly much more than we do. He's stronger, faster," she flicked an eye outwards as Angel's blade flashed with superhuman speed through their attackers, "and practically invulnerable. If he helps Buffy to avoid the early death that comes to Slayers, then I'm all for letting him stay. Heck, if he could take Buffy's place on the Hellmouth, I'd say, more power to him."

"Mrs. Summers, you haven't seen the things I have. You haven't seen how…intimate he and Buffy are."

"Intimate? W-what do you mean? He and Buffy haven't—?" Her throat closed up as she inwardly reeled from shock and indignation.

"No, I don't think so. That's what's got us worried about the 'happiness' clause. We don't know exactly what would make Angel perfectly happy. But we're thinking a moment like that between him and Buffy might be what pushes him over the edge. That's why he needs to get away from her," Ms. Calendar finished

"But if that would do it…" Her eye strayed again towards the inhuman fighter battling by her daughter's side. "Why hasn't it happened yet?"

"I-I couldn't say. I can only believe that, since Angel and Buffy have been warned of the danger, they've been holding themselves back. They've shown an incredible restraint. But I don't know how long that state of affairs can continue. Buffy is a hormonal teenager. Angel is a grown male. Couple that with a vampire's appetites and I'd say that's a recipe for trouble."

Joyce bit her lip. Ms. Calendar was voicing some of her very fears. But she turned over all that she knew of Angel's relationship with her daughter. He has known Buffy for over a year and held himself from having sex with her. He and Buffy saw each other practically every night without undue incident. She had let Angel spend the night in her daughter's room! Now that she knew the danger she had run, Joyce flushed to think how irresponsible she herself had been to allow such behavior.

Yet nothing had happened. True, she'd made it clear that she'd been awake and listening for trouble. But how about the many times she hadn't been home because she was out of town on business? Who knew what the two of them got up to when she wasn't around?

Ms. Calendar didn't trust Angel. But the woman didn't know Buffy like her mother did. Yet Buffy had managed to hide her identity as a Slayer for over a year before she'd found out the truth, proof positive at how good she was at hiding secrets. If Buffy and Angel decided to go too far, how would she know? What was she willing to do to stop it?

"Hey, man, _what_ is going on?!?" one of the other band members yelled, crouching behind an amp that did very little to shield his precious hide.

"How should I know?" the second guy retorted, wincing as he heard more yells and snarls.

"I am never doing a charity gig again, so help me," the other guy whimpered.

Without thinking Oz picked up his guitar and swung it hard into the head of one of the attacking monsters. The instrument splintered but the thing merely smirked, completely unfazed by the solid blow. As the creature charged him, yellow eyes blazing, a pointed object that Oz recognized as one of the Dingoes's drumsticks protruded from his chest. Seconds later the guy exploded into dust. Buffy Summers stood before him, drumstick in hand, and smiled wanly at him before charging back into the fight.

"Cool," he muttered.

The vampires dusted, the remaining Dingoes members grabbed what was left of their valuable instruments, collected Devon and locked themselves in the van. Buffy, Angel and the others gathered together to check on their remaining company. Angel now had the mystery box tucked under one arm and was murmuring to Buffy. Oz scratched his hair and gazed curiously at his fingers as they came away coated with ashes. "So what's with that guy turning into dust?" he asked Xander.

"I'll let Willow field that one. She's your girlfriend, after all. Nice move with the guitar, by the way."

"That was a pretty neat thing you did with those cymbals. I wished the insurance covered the damage to the instruments." Oz paused. "That is, if we had insurance."

Willow stopped in front of Oz and shuffled from one foot to the other, unconsciously mimicking her best friend's movements from the previous night. "Hey."

"Hey," Oz replied.

"You're probably wondering what's with the spookiness and, and, all the fighting and the guys with the funny faces."

"Had crossed my mind."

She gulped and then raced into her explanation. "Vampires are real. A-a lot of them live in Sunnydale. Except that they don't actually live what with being undead and all. And it's not just vampires. There are other things out there, too." She stopped and peered anxiously at her boyfriend. "I-I know it's hard to accept at first."

"Actually, it explains a _lot._" Oz scratched at his head again. The dust was starting to itch his scalp. "And what about that tall guy with Buffy? What's his deal? I saw his face and it looked like the others."

"O-oh, t-that's Angel. He's a vampire, too. He helps us 'cause he's got a soul and he does good—with Buffy mostly."

Oz eyed the mysterious stranger. This guy was a vampire? With a soul? So that's what that weird feeling meant when he was around guys like this Angel. It said "VAMPIRE?" As if sensing his stare, Angel's head snapped towards his and a brilliant, probing gaze met Oz's. It was as if Angel sensed something odd about him as well and Oz was suddenly uneasy. He was the first to look away.

"Well, now that the Buffy-crisis is over, does anybody want cake? 'Cause I could sure go for a slice." Without waiting to see if anyone followed her example, Cordelia walked over to Buffy's cake and began cutting off a thin wedge.

Oblivious to all this, Buffy was trying to deal with the pain of knowing her lover was leaving her. "Can't I even come with you to the docks?" Buffy whispered.

"Who's going to guard Dalton when he comes to? You can't trust him around your friends. He may be the vampire world's answer to Willy the bartender but he's still an unsouled pest. He'll hurt them if he gets the opportunity."

"I-I understand. It's just…you're going away and I don't know when I'll see you again." Her voice broke and she hugged him hard.

The all-too-familiar sorrow that was stamped on his features like a brand lowered over his face. Mrs. Summers didn't think she had ever seen Angel as far from happiness as he was right now. Her daughter's shoulders began to shake and Joyce thought she could hear muffled sobs. Resolving her inner struggle, she cleared her throat. "Actually, I think there might be a better way."

When everybody stopped talking and focused their attentions on her, she outlined her simple plan.

Early the next morning, Giles gazed critically at the package. It was bulky and oversized but was clearly stamped with a label warning "Art Material. FRAGILE. HANDLE WITH CARE." "I must say, this is a capital idea, Joyce. I doubt whether any vampire would think to look for the Judge's arm disguised as a painting. Are you sure your gallery can spare this piece?"

"Absolutely. The artist was a minor one; we never did manage to sell many of his works even though I always liked them. That's why I kept some of his pieces here at the house. I won't mind having the Council reimburse me for the loss, though. I _do_ have a living to make and the artist needs to eat." She saw it loaded onto Oz's van, ready to be taken to the airport. "They'll keep the Judge's arm in a safe place?"

"O-of course. When I called and told the Council what we had in our possession, they were suitably impressed with the need for swiftness and caution. They sent a team of archivists and bodyguards to meet Oz at the airport. We have many vaults containing an impressive number of precious relics, artifacts and perilous items. The arm will not only be barricaded behind rather solid doors, it shall be shielded with magical wards as well. It would take more resources than the A-Anointed One possesses to breach that security. Mark my words, it shall be in safe hands."

She heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, that settles that." She yawned mightily, her face rather pale, the obvious result of no sleep. Then she made an attempt to smile. "Would you like to sit down for a cup of tea?"

Giles hesitated for only a second. Soon he would have to leave to resume his duties as school librarian. But right now a spot of tea sounded very appetizing. "T-that would be wonderful, yes." They headed back to the house on Revello and Giles finally spoke what was uppermost on his mind. "H-how is Buffy taking things? I know her birthday wasn't…quite what she had hoped. We did so want to make it a happy day for her but things got decidedly out of hand."

Joyce grimaced. "I really wanted to yell at her for not telling me about Angel. If she hadn't taken off with him to finish off that Anointed One, I would have. He's dangerous to her, to all of us, and she wouldn't tell me. I've told her over and over again since I learned about the slaying that she could come to me and tell me anything. But she still refuses to trust me." She went to put on the water and then stopped. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing such a great job as a mother."

Never having been a parent, Giles was momentarily at a loss as to how to reassure her. But he recalled how exceptional a person Buffy was and the words came easily. "How can you doubt it when you've reared such a fantastic child?"

There was another smile, this one easier, and she replied, "Thanks. That's what every mother wants to hear. But I think I know why she didn't want me to know about this." Giles privately thought he knew the reason as well. But he waited to hear Joyce confirm his suspicions.

"She knows that I don't approve of Angel as a boyfriend. I don't think anybody in her circle does," she added while darting a shrewd gaze at Giles.

He cleared his throat, turning over various responses in his head before answering. "W-well, I'm sure we each have our objections. But Angel has proven himself time and time again to be a formidable ally a-and I for one believe his love for Buffy to be entirely genuine."

"Maybe. But he's still a vampire. He's still older than she is by about…" She stopped talking as she considered she didn't know Angel's age. In the Bronze, Jenny had mentioned her people following Angel for over a century but she hadn't mentioned how old he was before then. "Just how old is he anyway?"

"The Council records aren't entirely certain. They didn't keep such accurate birth records back in those days. But we place his age around 242 years, give or take."

"Oh god. I knew he was old but I had no idea it was over two centuries." She let out a gusty sigh and sat in silence for a while. "How can he…? I mean, what can he see in her? What does she see in _him?_"

"Mysterious and strange are the ways of love, Joyce. I wouldn't try to explain it any more than I would try to explain to a fish what it is to walk on dry land. We'll just have to take their feelings on faith."

She sniffed, the explanation doing little to satisfy her maternal concerns. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

That was rather a puzzling attitude to take, given what she'd done for the vampire. "If you're so disapproving, then might I ask why…?"

"Why I suggested the handy usage of Federal Express when I could have kept my mouth shut and let Angel disappear out of Buffy's life for months? I saw her face when she thought she had to say goodbye to him. She'd been looking forward to this birthday for months because she thought it meant she could drive. She's a Slayer to you but to me she's just my little girl with all the wants and needs of other girls—including the urge to be independently mobile. But when she knew Angel might leave, it was as if a…light had gone out of her and I knew that nothing else in her life mattered: not the driving, the presents, her schoolwork, the slaying. Nothing. She looked so empty and lost.

"And I've seen how Angel is around her and know that he'd never do anything to hurt her if he could avoid it. She has all of us to look out for her. But only Angel loves her as a man can. I-I don't know if I have the heart to take that away from her." The kettle began to whistle and she turned off the stove. She lifted the pot and hesitated. "You're all looking for a-a way to bind Angel's soul, aren't you? Willow told me while we were trapped in the Bronze."

"That's right. So far, we've had no success. But we shall persevere. For Buffy's sake."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They drank their tea in silence.

Buffy hadn't wanted to part from Angel. The battle in the Bronze had left her keyed up and anxious to take the fight to the little brat. She'd been all for going to the Anointed One's lair with only Angel as backup until Giles had persuaded her it might be a good idea to procure weapons for her friends in order to even up the odds.

Dalton had been more than helpful, giving extensive details about the crypt's layout, the likely number of the Anointed's minions and the number of mystical texts they'd managed to pick up since Buffy had found their last place of residence. It was these books that had him the most anxious. Dalton wanted to make certain they weren't damaged in the upcoming fight and had been pathetically grateful when Giles had proven as eager to secure them intact as he was. Amused, Buffy had noted them carrying out the various dusty tomes as they chattered and exclaimed over the old books. [Looks like Giles has found himself another book geek. He's happy, anyway.] The books had been stashed at Giles's place where Dalton was forbidden entry until he could be proven trustworthy. If he wanted to get near his precious volumes, he was going to have to play nice with Buffy and her friends. Thus, Giles had neatly secured Dalton's loyalty.

Angel had wanted to sneak off in that melting-into-the-darkness routine he did so well. But Buffy wouldn't hear of it. It was still her birthday technically. She wanted to know what his present was. Angel had only told her it was something he wanted to give her in private. She'd been forced to let him go while she went home with her mother.

Now here she was rushing towards his apartment. She wondered what he had gotten her. This was Angel; whatever he got would be perfect if rather unusual. So it could be anything. She didn't care one way or the other. The only thing she truly wanted was on the other side of this door.

She stood before his door and raised her fist. It was opened before she could knock. Angel was dressed in black slacks and a sleeveless T-shirt that exposed his powerful shoulders and arms. He'd told her they were called wife beaters. She'd thought that a rather ugly name for clothes that did such flattering things to a body like his. "Buffy."

"Angel." It was silly, this habit they had of greeting each other by their first names. But everything they felt for each other were in those two little words. They merely gazed at each other for precious moments before she murmured, "I'd love to continue this stare-down contest but could we do it inside?"

"Uh sure." He stepped back. "You slept okay?"

"For the three hours between the throwdown with the Annoying One and his groupies and now? Terrific," she lied. "You?"

"It was night. Not really my time for sleeping."

"Right. You'd think that all the time we spent together I'd remember that. Chalk it up to 17th birthday jitters."

There was a blatant hint if he ever heard one. Angel smiled, one of his delicate ones, the shadow of a bird's wing over still water, and gathered Buffy close. Cool lips pressed over hers and his tongue slid along her mouth, coaxing it to open.

Her hands inched up his back and slid under the T-shirt, rubbing against his skin. He shivered perversely at that warm contact and pressed her closer. The kiss became fervent, the two bodies swaying together. The odor of her desire wafted up to tickle his nose and his hands slid down to cup her buttocks.

When she moaned against his mouth, he recalled the hour and the dual constraints of time and circumstances. "Um, Buffy?"

"Mmmm. What?" she murmured.

"Don't you have to be at school?"

She nestled into his arms, refusing to move. "Not for a couple of hours."

"Still, you should go."

He was telling her to leave? Stifling the feeling of disappointment, she pulled from his arms with a sigh. "You're right. This is me. Me going." She didn't move and neither did he. He could sense tension and desire building between them again and cast about for something to break the mood.

"Wait." He pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket and she felt her heart skip a beat. It looked smaller than the one he'd given her with the cross and she wondered what special bit of jewelry lay inside it. When he opened it, she peered quizzically at the content. A smile broke over her face like sunshine.

"Angel. It's beautiful."

He took out the ring and recited the lore he recalled from long ago when he'd still been a simple Irish lad with innocent longings for faraway places and unknown shores. "My people—before I was changed—they exchanged this as a sign of devotion. It's a claddagh ring. The hands represent friendship, the crown represents loyalty and the heart…well, you know," he added, sounding almost bashful. "If you wear it with the heart pointing towards you, it means you belong to somebody. Like this." He gestured towards the ring on his left hand.

Buffy had often noted that ring but assumed it had some other significance for him dealing with his past. Was it possible he wore it because of her? Through vision that had turned oddly hazy, she accepted the smaller ring he gave her and fitted it over her left ring finger, the heart pointing in. She stood up on her toes and wound her arms around his shoulders, drawing him down for a passionate kiss. "I love it, Angel. It's the perfect gift."

He kissed her soundly and drew back to whisper into her hair. "Happy birthday, Buffy."

TBC


End file.
